


Time Won't Let Me (Part One)

by Ketch22, wegoddessofhell



Series: Time Won't Let Me [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Monster Hunters, Angst and Feels, Bisexual Dean Winchester, Bullying, Closeted Castiel (Supernatural), Closeted Dean Winchester, Depression, Explicit Language, F/M, Gay Castiel (Supernatural), Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, M/M, Mild Smut, POV Castiel (Supernatural), POV Dean Winchester, Psychological Torture, Slow Build Castiel/Dean Winchester, Suicidal Dean Winchester, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-31
Updated: 2019-03-31
Packaged: 2019-12-29 19:55:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 64,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18300905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ketch22/pseuds/Ketch22, https://archiveofourown.org/users/wegoddessofhell/pseuds/wegoddessofhell
Summary: Entering his 5th year of the Voldemort-controlled Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, muggle-born Dean Winchester is faced with the prospect of the Choosing - a ceremony where twelve students are picked based on blood status to participate in the Mudblood Games. In the Games, the tributes are transported to Purgatory. If you're the first to find your way to the portal out, you become part of Voldemort's world - and if you're not, you die. Will Dean, Sam, Castiel and the others be Chosen, or will they simply have to sit by and watch their friends suffer at the hands of the cruelest supernatural threat the trio have ever faced?





	1. Long Train Runnin’

**Author's Note:**

> We obviously took some liberties with the timelines/characters, so my advice is to take it as you read it.  
> I hope you all enjoy reading this as much as we're enjoying writing it. 
> 
> THE CHAPTER PLAYLIST: Some songs were chosen for title, some for sound, and some for content.  
> 1) Long Train Runnin’ - The Doobie Brothers  
> 2) The Boys Are Back In Town - Thin Lizzy  
> 3) Welcome To The Working Week - Elvis Costello  
> 4) Us and Them - Pink Floyd  
> 5) The Breakup Song - Greg Kihn Band  
> 6) Pinball Wizard - The Who  
> 7) Christmas All Over Again - Tom Petty & the Heartbreakers  
> 8) Lonely Is The Night - Billy Squier  
> 9) In The Evening - Led Zeppelin  
> 10) Hold the Line - Toto

_ Dean _

Dean Winchester studied Platform 9 ¾ with a weary eye. He was ready to go back to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, but he wasn’t entirely eager to leave the safety of his home. Despite the current state of the Wizarding World, Dean and his brother Sam had managed to have a pretty fun summer. Sam was a Gryffindor, just like Dean - but a year younger. Sam was going into his fourth year and Dean was heading into his fifth - which meant things would be different for him now. Ever since the dark wizard Voldemort overthrew whoever the last Minister of Magic was, Hogwarts has been more of a training ground for the older students rather than a place of actual learning. That suited Dean fine on most days, he preferred a hands-on experience to pouring over some dusty old book in the library.

He chewed on his lip, watching Sam make his way through the barrier between Platforms 9 and 10. Sam was safe from the worst changes at Hogwarts, at least for now. That fact comforted Dean slightly as he pushed his own cart through the seemingly solid brick wall that separated the Muggle world from the Wizarding world. The crowd of people he was met with blocked his path, and he lost sight of Sam in the fray. He groaned, maneuvering his possessions around kids and their parents kissing each other goodbye. He tried not to let his gaze linger on any particular farewell, partially due to the pang of jealousy he felt at seeing the level of affection most of these parents were freely showing their children, and partially because he simply felt like he was intruding.  As he made his way onto the train, he caught sight of Sam ducking into a compartment about midway down. He stowed his baggage and followed his brother, just long enough to make sure he was okay. He smiled as he passed, seeing Sam with a few of his friends and getting his hair mussed by the girl he pined over all summer. Dean ducked into an empty compartment, pulling out his dad’s journal.

His parents never came to see him or Sam get on the train… they’d drive them to King’s Cross, but Dean had never been able to get them to even get out of the car. He frowned at the yellowing pages of  the journal that used to connect him to his father. Now, the stories of creatures John Winchester had hunted only caused a pit to form in Dean’s stomach. Sure, the stories were great when Dean was a kid. His dad was a hunter, which to most kids would have meant he got dressed in some sort of camo and hunted deer, or maybe coyotes, but it didn’t take long for Dean to find out that his father’s targets were much…  _ bigger _ . His dad hunted creatures like werewolves and vampires, ghosts and ghouls. Definitely not deer. Dean used to think he was a hero, until his 11th birthday when an  _ owl  _ of all creatures delivered a letter that changed his life. A year later, the same thing would happen to his brother. They were wizards… the very sort of things that their father spent his life trying to kill. Dean didn’t think he’d ever seen his father that mad. The letter that explained Hogwarts and the wizarding world was, of course, burned immediately. It didn’t deter Dean and it most certainly didn’t deter the flock of owls that followed, each carrying a letter identical to the one that found a home amongst the ashes in their fireplace. It took weeks for his mom to convince his dad to let him go, and in the end, Dean was fairly sure his dad only agreed because he couldn’t stand the sight of him anymore.

He turned the page in the journal, running his thumb over the words he’s read a thousand times:  _ “In their transformed state, werewolves are mindless beasts - acting purely on instinct and are incapable of rational thought.” _  He was interrupted when Lisa Braeden slid open the compartment door and sat down across from him.

She grinned broadly at him, her eyes shining. “Hey Dean! How was your  summer?” Her smile faded slightly as she added, “I guess you didn’t get my letters.”

Dean glanced at her quickly and then averted his eyes. “Nah, I got ‘em, just couldn’t write you back. You never gave me your address, and the owls near my house don’t exactly know how to deliver letters. The one you sent always took off again before I could find my damn quill.”

Lisa frowned slightly, forgetting again that Dean was technically from a muggle family. He had such a natural gift for magic, it was sometimes hard to remember he hadn’t been doing it his whole life. Her voice softened. “Hey, that’s okay. Are you ready for another year?”

He gave a noncommittal shrug in response, looking at the floor and trying not to think about what was potentially in store for him. “Yeah, I guess.  It’s gonna be like any other year, right?”

Lisa moved over to sit next to Dean, taking one of his hands in her own and leaning into his shoulder. “It’s going to be fine, Dean. Hogwarts is a big place, and they’re only going to take one kid from our house and year. I’m sure you’ll be fine, even if your name does get picked… I’d bet my whole stock of Chocolate Frogs that Gordon Walker takes your place. He actually  _ wants  _ to go.” Dean leaned back, kicking his feet up on the seat where Lisa had been sitting and wrapping his arm around her shoulder. He tried to remember that her name is up for The Choosing this year too, and the gloomier he was about it, the worse it would be for her. He squeezed her gently and chuckled. “Yeah, that crazy son of a bitch has been chompin’ at the bit to get to his 5th year. Guess it’s his time to shine, huh?”

Lisa nodded briefly and then fell quiet, allowing Dean to slip back into his thoughts.  _ The Choosing. Already? How the hell did time pass so damn quick?  _ Every year since Voldemort gained power, 5th, 6th, and 7th year students were chosen from each of the four Hogwarts Houses - Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin. One kid from each year in each house, for a total of 12. They were always…  _ lesser _ students, ones that Voldemort deemed unworthy. Voldemort hated anyone and anything that wasn’t a pureblood wizard. That included half-bloods, muggle-borns, and just about any creature that wasn’t a giant. Even Voldemort knew the tactical advantages behind having a giant on his side. The rest were disposable, and seen as less than human. There was a problem, though, as there so often is when bigotry is involved. And that problem was population. The purebloods were dwindling in numbers, and Voldemort created a solution: the Mudblood Hunger Games. He’d r0und up a mix of students and magical creatures from Hogwarts and give them a chance to prove that they belonged in his new world order. Names would be drawn from The Goblet of Fire, and unless someone volunteered to take your place, you were transported with the rest of the chosen few to Purgatory. Not much is known about what happens in Purgatory, but only one tribute ever makes it out alive. The rest either die in Purgatory, remain trapped, or… by some outlandish theories, are fed to Voldemort’s snake Nagini if they aren’t the first one to find the portal out of there. Dean shuddered at the thought of being fed to a giant snake, which causes Lisa to sit up and squeeze his hand.

“Seriously, Dean. Quit worrying. You’re not going to get chosen, and neither am I. We’re going to have a great year and you’re going to pass all your exams and then I’m kidnapping both you and Sam over the summer.” She nodded her head once, matter-of-factly.

Dean narrowed his eyes at her. “Sorry, what now?”

Lisa nodded again, more insistently this time. “You heard me, Winchester. You and your brother are going to come stay with me whether you like it or not. My mom already talked to yours, it’s all set up.” She grins and kisses him quickly. “It took me ages to convince my mom, but I finally did it. I told her how you have to stay at school over the holidays and you dread going home for the summer break, because your dad is such a --” She cut off abruptly and pursed her lips. “I’m sorry, Dean. You know what I mean, though. She thought it would be good for you two to spend some time with proper wizards, and I --” She blushed, and continued quietly, “I didn’t want to spend another summer away from you. Please tell me you’ll at least consider it?”

And he did consider it. A summer away from his dad sounded too good to be true. He smiled widely and kissed her again, just as Finnick Odair opened the compartment door and made a very disgusted noise when he saw them. “Oy! Get a room, you two, other people have to share this train too.” He walked over and shimmied himself between them, then looked over at Lisa and winked, clicking his tongue. “Hey Braeden, you miss me?”

Lisa scowled and Dean smacked Finnick’s arm, then pushed him to the seat opposite him. “Don’t be a toolbag, Finn. You know she’s about as taken as it gets, so knock it off.”

Finnick’s eyes danced as he smirked at Dean. “What, are you afraid of a little competition, Winchester? That doesn’t sound like you at all. Who hurt you over the summer?”

Dean rolled his eyes, but was more or less thankful for the distraction. He had a feeling he was going to need a lot of those if he was going to survive this year.


	2. The Boys Are Back in Town

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arrival at Hogwarts/the Welcoming Feast

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the Sorting Hat's song was entirely thieved from the brilliance of JK Rowling, just cut down to fit our needs.

_ Dean _

By the time the train was close enough to Hogwarts to merit him changing into his robes, his once-empty compartment had been overrun by people. Sam had joined a couple of hours into the ride, followed closely by Alyssa Blake. He couldn’t help but smile when he saw them together, because it seemed like Alyssa was finally warming up to his little brother. He watched her mess up Sam’s hair for the second time this train ride, and then a third, and then a fourth. Garth Fitzgerald, a tall, goofy sixth year Hufflepuff boy took up nearly half the remaining space in the compartment. He was all limbs and no grace, which just made Dean even more claustrophobic because he couldn’t move an inch without bumping into him. The small space on the seat not currently occupied by a person was riddled with candy wrappers and empty Chocolate Frog boxes - it would seem Lisa’s stash of them was every bit as big as she made it seem.

When Jo Harvelle peeked in the door and offered a game of Exploding Snap, Dean took that as his cue to go change. He declined her offer, perhaps a little more forcefully than he would have done at this time last year, and climbed over Finnick’s legs to get to his trunk. He was pretty sure he elbowed  _ someone _ in his attempt to free his robes, but who it was that received the blow, he couldn’t tell. The volume level in the entire train seemed to increase the closer they got to the school, and by the time he stumbled into the corridor to head towards the restroom, he could barely hear himself think.  

He changed in a hurry, straightening the front of his robes and trying to get his hair to lie straight as he walked out of the restroom again. He stopped abruptly when his downcast eyes landed on a pair of shoes that didn’t belong to him. He looked up quickly, but not fast enough to stop the distracted owner of those shoes from running smack into him, knocking his clothes out of his hands. “Whoa, easy tiger… watch where you’re goin’, would ya?” Dean ducked down to pick up his belongings, and when he stood back up, he found himself at eye level with Castiel Novak. He fought the urge to roll his eyes, because honestly… he should have known. Throughout his previous years at Hogwarts, he’d seen this particular Hufflepuff often enough to know that ‘distraction’ should have been his middle name.

Castiel blinked at Dean, then said in an annoyingly low voice, “Oh, umm, I’m sorry. I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going, I didn’t notice you.”

Dean lost the battle against rolling his eyes. “Yeah, whatever. What the hell are you doing, anyway? Isn’t the special-privilege bathroom on the other side of the train?”

He squinted his eyes at Dean, frowning. “Special-privilege?”

“Yeah, don’t the sixth years get their own or somethin’?” Dean adjusted his grip on the clothes and shoes in his hand, looking around Castiel and trying to gauge how easy it would be to get around him without knocking him over.

Castiel noticed Dean’s movements and turned his head to look behind him as well. “I’m unsure… what are you looking at?” 

Dean narrowed his eyes slightly. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but you’re kinda a big dude, and we’re in the doorway to a friggen bathroom. I’m just tryin’ to see how I’m supposed to get outta here without creaming one of us.”

“Well,” Castiel began, matter-of-factly, “I could just back up and step to the side as so.” He turns and walks back the way he came, ducking into a little section of seats. “Problem solved,” he grinned.

For the second time in five minutes, Dean found himself rolling his eyes. He lowered his

voice and did his best impression of Castiel as he walked past him, “I could just step aside, like so.” He scoffed and kept walking. He wasn’t sure what it was about Castiel that bothered him so much, but it was definitely  _ something. _

Castiel heard Dean and tilted his head, watching him go as he muttered quietly, “Who hurt you?”

Dean definitely wasn’t far enough away yet that he missed that, despite the ever-growing buzz of excited voices around him. He shook his head as he opened the door to his compartment, wondering to himself why everyone kept asking him that, and if he even had an answer.

About a half an hour later, they finally arrived at Hogwarts. Dean couldn’t resist the urge to press his nose against the window as the castle came into full view. It still impressed him, even after 4 years here. It was so different from anything he’d seen back home, and he wasn’t sure if there was another place like it in the whole world. He found his tension easing as he walked with the other fifth years to the carriages that seemed to pull themselves. The carriage ride ended as quickly as it began, and he made his way towards the front doors of the place that had become his true home.

Inside of the Entrance Hall, it didn’t take long before Sam found him again, and they quickly met up with the four biggest troublemakers in Dean’s year - James Potter, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew. Dean grinned widely when he saw Sirius, and the two fell in step with each other as they walked to the Great Hall and took their seats at the Gryffindor table. Sam and the others filled the seats around them, and Dean scanned the table for other familiar faces as Sirius began launching into an impossible tale of his summer adventures, which Dean barely believed but still found amusing. He finally spotted Lisa and waved her over, smacking Remus gently and urging him to make some room.  

 

_ Castiel _

Castiel sauntered into the Great Hall; he’d been through this five times already, and nothing really changed. It was annoying, everyone was screaming and talking as if they hadn’t seen each other a couple of months ago. Honestly, most of them probably saw each other over the summer too. He scanned the room, left to right, just like always, his eyes drifting over each house.

The Gryffindors, the courageous and brave; the red and gold. Castiel didn’t  _ hate _ Gryffindors, he just hated how their cockiness and egotistical ways often led to recklessness, and it was usually all bad news from there. His eyes drifted to the left, landing on the Ravenclaw table. Honestly, he was a little upset when he wasn’t sorted there.  _ Intelligence, wit, wisdom, originality… I possess all those traits. Why wasn’t I chosen?  _ He suddenly became annoyed from staring at the sea of blue and silver and shook his head slightly, turning to the Slytherins. He’s never had a problem with the Slytherins he just- actually, that would be a lie. The Slytherins were the exact opposite of him, and he couldn’t stand being with them for more than 30 seconds at a time. “Literal snakes,” he mumbled to himself, and that was true. They were known for being ambitious, cunning and for doing whatever it took to get their way. He began to develop a headache from all of the ill feelings the Slytherins brought up _ , _ so he finally turned towards his house.

He maneuvered his way through the Great Hall, and eventually reached the Hufflepuff table. He’d sat in the same spot for five years, now: three chairs in from the top right corner. His eyebrows raised when he realized that seat was occupied, but before he could get a word out, Justin Finch-Fletchley quickly got up and moved to the other side of the table.

Newt Scamander raised his head but didn’t quite make eye contact, and frowned slightly. “I believe you scared him, Castiel. We were talking about a niffler infestation he thinks he has. I was looking forward to finding out.” A small, spindly  _ stick _ crawled its way up Newt’s arm and perched on his shoulder. 

Castiel sat down and shrugged once, looking at Newt. “I didn’t mean too, I didn’t even say anything. Why do you have a pet stick?” 

Newt looked briefly offended. “He’s a bowtruckle. His name is Groot, and he has feelings, you know.” Castiel watched as the stick crossed its arms. 

“Is it… frowning at me?” Castiel squinted at it, and it scurried behind Newt and disappeared.

“I tried to tell you. He’s sensitive, and he doesn’t appreciate being compared to foliage.” 

He and Newt quickly got into a conversation about their summers and whether or not they were excited to be back. When Castiel was on the train, sure, he’d felt excited. He’d be away from home, have his own freedom…  _ excited _ might have actually been an understatement, but just as it did every year, that excitement faded as the train sped closer and closer to Hogwarts and the feeling was overtaken by fear. Thoughts of the train lead to thoughts of that boy he bumped into, and he furrowed his eyebrows. As he replayed the memory, the boy was the one who had been looking down at the ground when they’d run into each other, not him. Who gave that guy the right to be so… rude? Blunt?

“Don’t you think so?” Newt asked, drawing Castiel from his thoughts and bringing his mind back to the _ obnoxiously  _ loud hall.

“Pardon?” Castiel squinted, looking back at Newt. “I sort of zoned out.”

“Were you thinking about The Choosing?” Newt pushed, sitting up straighter in his chair. “That’s all that’s been on my mind all day.”

The girl sitting beside Castiel perked up, her eyebrows raised. “We’re talking about The Choosing?”

Castiel jumped because he didn’t remember her sitting down, but rolled his eyes discreetly, because  _ no, he hadn’t been thinking or speaking about The Choosing.  _ “You do realize that we  _ are _ allowed to think and talk about other things, right?”

The girl grinned. “I’m Charlie Bradbury, I don’t know if we’ve ever officially met.”

Castiel remembered seeing her around the school last year and nodded. “You’re in year five, correct? I’m-”

“Castiel Novak, year six,” she jumped in, speaking for him. “I know.”

He wanted to question it, but honestly, he didn’t care that much. This day had been enough of a headache; he didn’t need to know how some bubbly, red-haired fifth year knew who he was. His eyes drifted out over the room, and of course they landed on Dean Winchester and his stupid face. He shook his head, about to explain the train incident to Newt, but he never got the chance.

 

_ Dean _

Dean looked up towards the long table that ran perpendicular to the House tables, and held up a hand to stop Lisa mid-sentence. Professor Shurley, Hogwarts’ Headmaster, was standing at his seat. He looked out over the students and the first years that were gathered near the stool that held the Sorting Hat, and raised his arms to call attention to himself.

His voice echoed around them, amplified by magic. “Welcome back to another year at Hogwarts, everyone! It’s nice to see that at least  _ most  _ of you made it back in one piece.” Professor Shurley’s eyes fell towards the Ravenclaw table, where Dean recognized Jo Harvelle’s younger brother Ash was blushing furiously under Shurley’s gaze, both of his eyebrows singed clean off. He looked back, leaning around Lisa and Remus and trying to get Jo’s attention, but she had her face buried in her hands. He chuckled at the embarrassed groan she was letting out, and turned his attention back to the Headmaster.

Professor Shurley continued, a smile playing across his face. “Let us hope that’s the worst injury Mr. Harvelle sees this year.” His face turned more solemn and Dean’s stomach dropped, because honestly, that wasn’t a very funny joke given the circumstances. “As you all know, the Choosing will be held 30 days from now. On that night, you will all return to your common rooms after your classes are over, and your Heads of Houses will escort the eligible 5th years and above down here to the Great Hall.” Dean scoffed, louder than he intended to.  _ Eligible? That’s what they’re callin’ it these days?  _ He missed most of what Professor Shurley said after that, because his thoughts were once again focused on the Choosing, and what would happen to his little brother if Dean’s name  _ was _ called.

He felt Lisa nudge him and he snapped his head up, seeing that Professor Shurley had

taken his seat again. He watched as a stupidly tall, pointed witch’s hat bobbed it’s way through the crowd of first years, and the form of Professor McGonagall appeared next to the Sorting Hat, parchment in hand. She stared expectantly at the hat, which began to sing.

 

_ Hogwarts worked in harmony _

_ For several happy years, _

_ But then discord crept among us _

_ Feeding on our faults and fears. _

 

_ And for a while it seemed the school _

_ Must meet an early end. _

_ What with duelling and with fighting _

_ And the clash of friend on friend.  _

 

_ And now the Sorting Hat is here _

_ And you all know the score: _

_ I sort you into Houses _

_ Because that is what I'm for. _

 

_ But this year I'll go further, _

_ Listen closely to my song: _

_ Though condemned I am to split you _

_ Still I worry that it's wrong, _

 

_ Oh, know the perils, read the signs, _

_ The warning history shows, _

_ For our Hogwarts is in danger _

_ From external, deadly foes. _

 

_ And we must unite inside her _

_ Or we'll crumble from within _

_ I have told you, I have warned you... _

_ Let the Sorting now begin. _

 

An unsettled silence spread throughout the hall. Dean had remembered the Sorting Hat’s songs being silly and lighthearted, not menacing warnings about danger. Sure, they were in danger, and from plenty of sources. But it had been like that for years now.  _ What’s different now? What’s different thi-- _ Professor McGonagall cleared her throat and unrolled the parchment in her hands. “Now, when I call your name, you will step forward, place the Sorting Hat upon your head, and be sorted into your houses. While you are here, your house will be something like your family.” She paused, seemingly for dramatic effect, and then began reading the list of names.

Dean paid exactly as much attention to the Sorting Ceremony as he does every year -- that is to say, absolutely none at all. He was vaguely aware of the different tables erupting in cheers and applause when someone was sorted into their house, but now his eyes were back on Lisa. He grinned at her and took her hand under the table. “First night back, you gonna stay up late with me?” Lisa fake yawned in response, but was unable to hide her answering smile. “I don’t know, Dean, you’ve been a buzzkill all day. Are you going to lighten up?”

He kissed her quickly, then shrugged, a faint smirk playing across his lips. “I guess that depends on how nice you are to me.” Lisa’s response, undoubtedly sarcastic, was lost to Dean’s ears as the people around him started yelling and screaming like they’d just won the lottery. He frowned, still seated as every other student at the Gryffindor table was on their feet, greeting their newest housemate.

 

_ Castiel _

Castiel was paying as much attention to the sorting as he usually did… next to nothing. He really only tuned back in when the Gryffindors, of all houses, received a new member because they were so loud. Charlie had moved down the table a few seats when she noticed one of her friends. The spot next to Castiel had been vacant for a while, before a brunette girl sat down beside him. He didn’t turn to her right away, he kept his eyes on the sorting ceremony as if it was the most interesting thing in the world, which it definitely was not.

“Hey, Castiel!” the girl grinned, looking over at him with her bright blue eyes.

Cass let out a quiet, deep breath and turned his head toward her slowly. “Hello, Hael. How are you?” Hael Vetter was a sixth year Hufflepuff right alongside Castiel.

He felt his headache increase as she began talking about her summer  _ way _ faster than Castiel’s poor brain could comprehend. When he thought about Hael Vetter, he thought about all the times she had tried to get with him and how many creative ways he had to come with to shut her down politely and respectfully. She  _ was _ really pretty and at most times he did enjoy her company, he just wasn’t interested in pursuing a relationship with her.

“So, how about you? How was your summer? Did you find a girlfriend yet?” Hael rambled, leaning on the table with her arms. 

A few seats down, an older student named Raphael scoffed. “The day Castiel Novak finds a girlfriend is the day I sprout a shrivelfig from my ear.” 

“It was fine, and no,” Castiel answered Hael simply. “I didn’t do anything special, really.”

She smiled slightly and touched his arm gently, glaring at Raphael but following Castiel’s lead in ignoring him. . “Are you feeling alright?”

He tilted his head, squinting at her. “Why do you ask? I’m fine. It’s just been a long day, that’s all.”

She nodded once. “Think about it this way, we only have-,” she was cut off by the abrupt and unnecessarily loud cheering as a first year girl was sorted into Gryffindor. She cleared her throat and spoke again, “As I was saying, we only have one year left. Which means we only have one more of these,” she lowered her voice “ _ stupid _ sorting ceremonies.”

He rubbed at his eyes with his palms, nodding as he did. “I know, Hael.’

“Would you like to go for a walk to get some air?” she offered, a look of sympathy on her face, rubbing his arm.

_ I’d like to go for a walk, but without you.  _ “Actually, yes, I would, but you can stay here,” he slid out of his chair and smiled slightly. “I’ll be back, okay? Pay attention to the sorting ceremony, I want to know all the details later.”

She looked up at him, biting her lip gently. “Alright, Castiel. I hope you feel better.”

He smiled sincerely and then turned, leaving the Great Hall quickly.

 

_ Dean _

Dean was repeatedly trying to pull Lisa’s attention back to him, but it had become so loud in the aftermath of the Sorting Ceremony that he had given up almost entirely. He stared longingly at the empty plates in front of them, and almost as if on cue, they filled with food. He grinned widely at the spread, hardly believing all the choices they had, despite the fact that he has now attended several feasts here. He craned his neck to look at all of the choices, seeing things like roast beef, roast chicken, pork chops, lamb chops, sausages, bacon, steak, steak and kidney pie, boiled potatoes, roasted potatoes, mashed potatoes, chips, Yorkshire pudding, peas, carrots, gravy, and peppermint humbugs. He helped himself to a generous portion of bacon, roasted potatoes and steak, waiting patiently for his pumpkin juice to fill on its own. When it did, he took a drink and then dug into his food. He was halfway through his third piece of bacon when Lisa tugged on his arm and leaned in close so he could hear her. “If you come with me right now, there’s a good chance I’ll be  _ really  _ nice to you.”

Her breath ghosting over his skin as she spoke was the only motivation he needed. He slid a couple of pieces of bacon into the pocket of his robe and followed Lisa out of the Great Hall. He turned, walking backwards and keeping his eyes locked on Lisa’s. “So, where we headed, sunshine? I bet if we made it back to the common room before everyone else, we could bribe the Fat Lady into stalling for us. All we’d need to do is promise her a small audience for the next Portrait Opera she decides to perform.” He continued his backward stroll towards the stairs, and added, “What do ya say? You, me, curled up in one of those big fluffy chairs you like so much, maybe a little fireplace action.” He leaned in to kiss her, and she returned it with a quiet little noise that made the hairs on his arms stand up. He backed up a little quicker, expecting to hit the staircase any second now. It wasn’t the staircase that Dean ran into, however, unless staircases learned how to grunt.

 

_ Castiel _

All Castiel wanted to do was go for a walk. He wanted to walk the halls of Hogwarts alone and be left alone with his headache and his thoughts, but of course, it was never that easy. He rounded the corner to head to the staircase, but he never made it, as he was ran into,  _ again. _ His hand instantly went to his nose as he grunts, narrowing his eyes as he turned to see who he bumped into.

Cass blinked his eyes, focusing on who was in front of him. “You  _ seriously _ need to watch where you’re going, Gryffindor.”

Dean turned away from Lisa and frowned slightly when he saw Castiel. “Again, huh? You need glasses or somethin, buddy?”

He shook his head, but then shrugged once. “You were the one who was in such a hurry. Where’s the fi-,” his eyes shifted to the girl he was with before he clears his throat. “ _ Oh _ . I understand now. The uh- there’s an empty classroom beside the statue of the one-eyed-witch, just down the hall.”

Dean eyed him quizzically for a moment. “Dude, everyone’s still eatin’ dinner. We’re probably just gonna go back to our common room, but uhh… I appreciate your concern.”

Lisa took this moment to look between them and then turn to Castiel. “Hi, I’m Lisa Braeden. Gryffindor fifth year, like Dean.”

Castiel tilted his head at Lisa, his eyebrow raised. “Hi, there. I’m Castiel Novak, sixth year Hufflepuff.”

Dean fake snored loudly, closing his eyes and letting his head drop before jerking it upwards and pretending to wake up again. “Oh, shit, sorry. Did I miss somethin?” That earned him an elbow to the ribs by Lisa, but he grinned and put his arm around her.

Castiel let his eyes scan the position Dean and Lisa were stood in, and he realized it probably looked as if he were checking Lisa out. That must have been what it looked like to Dean as well, because he cut in, “Yo, my eyes are over here,  _ not _ on my girlfriend.” Castiel averted his eyes to down the hallway, before looking back at the pair. “Are we finished here?”

Dean frowned slightly, using the arm he had around Lisa to pull her with him as he walked around Castiel and started climbing the stairs. He called over his shoulder, “Try not to run into me a third time, Cass. I might start gettin’ the wrong idea.”

“It’s Castiel, Winchester.” He sighed heavily, rolling his eyes.

“Dude, when you say it like that, it sounds like we’re married.”

“It sounds like-,” he paused and shook his head slightly. “It didn’t, not really. Punctuation, Dean, there was a comma in there.”

“Whatever you say,  _ Cass. _ Go eat some dinner, sounds like you could use a couple hundred Snickers.” He continued up the stairs with Lisa and disappeared out of sight.

Castiel wanted to shout something back, but he convinced himself to be the bigger person. That, and the fact that he couldn’t come up with a comeback. He let out a breath of frustration and headed the opposite direction of the Great Hall, his headache sufficiently a migraine now.


	3. Welcome to the Working Week

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Castiel begin their classes. All warnings were tagged in the beginning.

_ Dean _

It only took Dean a few days to get back into the swing of things at Hogwarts. Overall, not much had changed from his previous years; he was still horrible at Potions and History of Magic, and excelled in Defense Against the Dark Arts --  _ Right, I’m a fifth-year. I guess it’s just the Dark Arts now.  _ He thought he’d do pretty well in Charms and Transfiguration again, not well enough to write home about, but definitely passing. Of course, Dean wouldn’t be writing home about much of anything this year, neither him nor Sam had received even so much as a tissue from home so far. It had only been two weeks, but he knew this was a trend he should get used to. He felt worse for Sam, because he knew that his little brother cared a lot more than he let on. 

He double-checked his course schedule for that afternoon and sighed, he had Transfiguration with the Slytherins, and that was never something he looked forward to. He made his way out of the castle and headed towards the courtyard that would lead him to the Transfiguration classroom. He kept his eyes peeled for his best friends, Sirius and James, but all he found were a couple of Slytherins making their way towards the same classroom. He recognized two of them - Jack Morningstar and a girl named Glimmer. The third person they were with didn’t look familiar at all, but that wasn’t saying a whole lot; Dean didn’t spend a lot of time paying attention to snakes. He lowered his head and kept walking, heading towards the west side of the courtyard. He let out a sigh of relief when he heard Sirius and James arguing loudly up ahead. 

“You’re so dumb you thought Quaffles needed syrup!” James bellowed with a laugh, poking Sirius in the chest. Dean shook his head and walked quicker, a grin spreading across his face.

“Tell me, James, when you encounter a Boggart, does it turn into a mirror, or just your mum?” Sirius ducked quickly, expecting James to take a swing at him. No such violence ensued, however, because James was gaping at him. His face went from shock to offended amusement, and he barely missed a beat before continuing their game of insults.

“That’s clever, coming from you! And here I was thinking they named Platform 9 ¾ after your IQ.” James puffed his chest out, sort of proud of that one. Dean closed the distance and interrupted loudly.

“Alright, you two, knock it off, it’s time for class.” 

Sirius and James both turned to look at him at once, each one firing off an insult. James’s came first, with Sirius’ right on it’s heels. 

“I’ve met Flobberworms more interesting than you.” 

“I bet if you looked a Basilisk in the eye,  _ it  _ would die.” 

Dean blinked, glancing between them. “Son of a bitch, I guess my Flesh-Eating Slug Repellant doesn’t work. You think they give refunds?” 

James caught onto the insult first, rolling his eyes with a half-smirk and turning to head into the classroom. It took Sirius just a moment longer to realize what Dean had just compared him to, but when he did, he grabbed Dean by the back of the neck and put him in a headlock. Sirius dug the knuckles of his other hand roughly onto the top of Dean’s head, while Dean squirmed and tried to break out of his grip. “Jesus, Sirius, c’mon, man! Hands off the merch.” He managed to get himself free, and he smacked Sirius’ arm before grinning widely and walking into the room. 

He took his usual seat and pulled his Transfiguration book out of his bag, setting it down with a thump. He slid his wand out from its resting place in his robes, and eyed it fondly. 12 ½ inches long, rigid, and made of cypress wood. When he had gone to Ollivander’s before his first year at school, he had tried out a variety of different wands. Some responded to him pretty well, others not at all. But this one… this one was special. He could feel it the second the old wizard slid it into his hand. It was the feeling of coming home after a long trip, a kind of warm comfort that still wove it’s way through his body when he used the wand, even now. Mr. Ollivander had seemed delighted at his choice, and had told him he sold a similar wand just the year prior. Different wood, sure, but the unicorn that supplied the hair for Dean’s cypress wand also gave another hair. From what Ollivander had told him, the twin wand was made of willow. Dean hadn’t paid much attention after that; he knew that having twin cores was rare and would have some cool properties if he ever found it, but the chances of that were slim. He hadn’t thought to ask who bought the wand, and couldn’t very well go back and ask him now. 

He was broken out of his memory by the sound of Professor McGonagall. “ _ Geminio,”  _ she began, “is one of the few charms that you will be learning in my class. There has been some debate on whether it falls under Charms or Transfiguration, but Professor Trinket and I  _ agreed _ ,” she had pursed her lips here, suggesting it wasn’t much of an agreement, but rather an argument she regretted losing, “that it would be best if I taught you.”  Professor Effie Trinket was one of the weirdest witches that Dean had ever met. Where most witches and wizards opted for dark, dull clothing to make it easier to blend in, Professor Trinket made it a point to stand out. Bizarre costumes, brightly coloured makeup splotched all over her face. He was sure she had to be a metamorphmagus; there was no way she could dye her hair like that every day. Each time he saw her it was a different shade of insane. 

Yet again, Professor McGonagall’s voice pulled him back to the present. “... doubling charm. It will make an exact replica of any object when done properly.” She took this moment to demonstrate the wand movement, a simple flick of the wrist, and said the word  _ geminio  _ again. An exact, perfect replica of the apple on her desk appeared next to it. She turned to face the class again. “However, the duplicates are entirely worthless as they will decay over time, so I wouldn’t be getting any ideas about the trophy room if I were you, Mr. Black.” Her cat-like eyes fell on Sirius, who donned the least-convincing expression of innocence that Dean had ever seen. He snorted, looking back at Professor McGonagall. To her credit, she offered Sirius a tiny smile before releasing them to try the spell on their own. 

They’d be working alone for this lesson, which suited Dean just fine. It wasn’t that he didn’t like working in a group, he just knew he did better on his own, when fewer people were paying attention. He frowned slightly at the book he was supposed to be duplicating, thinking that it might have been easier if they’d started with something less detailed. He shrugged to himself and pointed his wand at the book,  _ Supernatural,  _ and attempted the spell. 

“ _ Geminio!”  _ he said confidently, flicking his wrist they way she had indicated. Next to  _ Supernatural, _ another book appeared. He grinned to himself, the covers matched exactly. Had he really done it the first time? It had been 2 years since he’d been able to do that, and this was O.W.L. level magic. He flipped open the duplicate book and groaned. It was blank.  _ Of course it’s blank, you idiot. You weren’t even thinking about the inside.  _ He heard several other noises of disappointment around him, which made him feel a little better. He cleared his throat and tried again. 

“ _ Geminio!”  _ This time, as he flicked his wrist and said the word, he focused on the entirety of the book instead of just on what he could see. Again, another book appeared. He could tell immediately that he hadn’t done it correctly, because now the title read  _ Unnatural.  _ He huffed, but opened the book anyway. It had words this time, which he supposed was a step in the right direction. Or, word, he should say, because written on every page, over and over again, was the word  _ “idjit.”  _ He shut the book quickly and tossed it on top of the other failed attempt. He glanced around the room and saw that a couple of people seemed to have gotten it correct already, which made him more determined to do this right. 

It took 3 more unsuccessful attempts before he was finally able to create a perfect duplicate of the book. He may not have been the first one to succeed, but he certainly wasn’t the last one, either. To his satisfaction, he saw the group of Slytherins that had followed him to the classroom were huddled together, poking their wands at a steaming pile of ashes.  _ At least I didn’t set mine on friggen fire.  _

He continued to practice, getting the spell right more often that not. He had a stack of 15 perfect replicas of  _ Supernatural  _ on his desk by the time Professor McGonagall announced that they’d done enough for today. He had hoped to get out of there without homework, but was sorely disappointed when she assigned as essay on what possible applications the Doubling Charm could have in real life. He gathered his things and walked with Sirius and James back out to the courtyard. It didn’t take long before the two of them resumed their battle of insults. 

“There should be an entire ward at St. Mungo’s dedicated to whatever’s wrong with you,” Sirius began. 

James raised a hand to his ear, “what? Sorry, didn’t hear you… I don’t speak Troll.” Sirius tackled James and the two began wrestling in the grass. Dean chuckled and hung back to watch. They did this a lot, and Dean wasn’t necessarily worried, but the two did have the tendency to take things too far. He had lost count a long time ago of how many times the three of them had made trips to the Hospital Wing because of these little wrestling matches. 

Dean heard the occasional  _ oomph,  _ or  _ aahh!  _ come out of the pile of swinging limbs, and he leaned against one of the pillars on the edge of the courtyard, crossing his arms. 

Remus Lupin came to stand beside Dean. Remus might have been smaller than Dean, but there was something about him that gave Dean the creeps. He was a nice enough kid, and he hung around a lot because of Sirius and James, but Dean usually made it a point not to get overly friendly with him. “You really shouldn’t encourage them, Dean. They’re bad enough as it is.” 

Dean’s eyebrows shot up as he looked down at Remus. “Encourage? Encourage  _ who?  _ Those two don’t even know I’m here. Watch.” He moved his eyes to the blur of teenage bodies still tussling on the grass and said loudly, “Hey, guys, it’s Dean! You should probably quit killin’ each other now.” Neither James nor Sirius gave any indication that they heard him, so he turned back to Remus with a look that said _ ‘I told you so’. _

Eager to put some distance between himself and Remus, he jerked his head towards his still-squabbling best friends. “They’re all yours, Reem. See you guys at dinner.” He slung his bag over his shoulder and turned, taking off at a jog back toward the castle. 

 

_ Castiel _

It was time for Castiel’s first Dark Arts lesson of the year. He glanced at his course schedule and rolled his eyes when he saw he’d be with the Gryffindors this year. He didn’t know many of them, but the ones he did know, he didn’t care for. The whole lot of them were loud and boisterous, and some of them - Dean Winchester’s name might have crossed his mind - were downright rude. 

He made his way slowly to the third-floor corridor. He passed a group of younger Ravenclaw students laughing together as they walked, and he felt a surge of jealousy. They’d still be taking Defense Against the Dark Arts. As it turned out, Voldemort cared very little what happened to students here before they reached a certain age. But once a student reached their fifth year, the curriculum changed and their lessons became…   _ darker.  _ He cringed internally as he climbed the final few steps and rounded the corner. There was already a crowd of students outside of the door, but Castiel couldn’t tell why none of them were going in. He pushed his way to the front and checked the door, which was locked. 

“Yeah, funnily enough we’d tried that one already.” Castiel turned his head toward the speaker, and was surprised when he saw Lisa Braeden, arms crossed and looking harassed. He turned his attention back towards the door, choosing not to respond. 

“ _ Alohamora.”  _ He pointed his wand at the lock as he spoke the word, but it didn’t budge. His frown deepened, his willow-and-unicorn-hair wand had never failed him like this. He licked his lip, searching his mind for a different spell to choose.

“Yep, tried that one, too.” Castiel could practically hear her eyes rolling, and he found himself wondering if she picked up that habit from Dean, or if it was Dean that learned it from Lisa. 

Not to be deterred, Castiel tried again. “ _ Aberto!”  _ Again, nothing happened. His frustration was mounting… he didn’t want to attend this class in the first place, and now it was impossible to get into? He heard someone behind him suggest that they just leave, and Castiel was dangerously close to doing exactly that. 

Just as he made his mind up to turn around and skip a lesson for the first time in his life, Professor Crane appeared at the top of the staircase. Castiel attended his lessons last year as well, but he didn’t think he’d ever quite yet used to the unsettling way Seneca Crane trimmed his beard. It looked ridiculous, as far as Castiel was concerned, and it was horribly distracting. It rose like a wave on the middle of his face and yet, the curves of it somehow sharpened his features. That was a trait he usually enjoyed, but with Professor Crane, it was just off-putting. Maybe it wasn’t the beard at all, maybe it was just the man. 

Professor Crane walked to the door and must have used a non-verbal spell, because Castiel heard the lock click open, but the man didn’t utter a word. Castiel made a mental note to do some more research on non-verbal spells. He knew a handful of them, but none that seemed abundantly useful. 

The group of students filed into the classroom behind Professor Crane and took their seats. When Castiel sat down at the end of a row, the other students seemed to make a point of avoiding the seat directly next to him. This didn’t bother him, until Lisa Braeden was the one that filled the spot. He pointedly ignored her and opened his book. 

Professor Crane scanned the room, and watched as several other students also pulled their books, parchment and quills from their bags and set them on their desks. When the class stilled, he stood with his hands folded behind his back and addressed them. “You can put those away. Today’s lesson won’t be found in  _ A Standard Book of Spells,  _ or any other book you’ll find here at Hogwarts.” He held up a single finger and added, “yet.” He waited once more as everyone put their things away, and then asked for a volunteer. When no one raised their hand or made any indication whatsoever that they’d be willing to volunteer for anything the Professor had in mind, he called on Lisa. Suddenly, her bravado disappeared, and she honestly looked scared. She rose slowly from her seat, her knee knocking against the desk. She didn’t seem to notice if it pained her at all, because she straightened her back and walked down to Professor Crane. Castiel almost admired her for that. He could see the moment that she buried her fear and did what needed to be done.  _ I guess that’s what makes her a Gryffindor.  _

“Today, half of you will be practicing delivering a curse, while the other half have the curse administered upon you. Don’t worry, I am on hand should anything go awry.” He turned his eyes and his wand on Lisa, and muttered, “ _ Imperio.”  _ All at once, Castiel understood. The Imperius Curse. An  _ Unforgivable  _ Curse. Performing this spell on another person was considered an imprisonable offense, surely he couldn’t be serious. Not even Professor Crane, with his strange beard and hollow eyes could be serious about  _ this.  _ But as he watched Lisa’s features go slack and her body relax, he knew the Professor was as serious as it gets. 

“What should we make her do? Recite her diary?” Professor Crane flicked his wand in her direction, and she began reciting what indeed sounded like a diary entry about her boyfriend. “Make her do a flip?” He flicked his wand again, and Lisa Braeden did a full backflip and landed perfectly on her feet. “Or perhaps something more useful?” He flicked his wand once more, and Lisa grabbed a large, heavy-looking paperweight from the Professor’s desk and walked toward her best friend. She raised the paperweight above her head and prepared to swing as her friend cowered. Castiel stood up, unable to watch such a thing. He knew that Seneca Crane and the sort of wizards he represents only understood one thing: blood status. He had no idea who the girl was that Lisa was about to murder in front of them, but he spoke as if he did. “That girl is a pureblood, from a family arguably older than  _ yours.  _ Leave her be, leave them  _ both  _ be.” His eyes widened slightly as he realized that he’d actually done it, he’d actually stood up and said those things aloud. He noticed every pair of eyes in the room was trained on his face, but he set his jaw and stood his ground. Of course, a vast majority of the students in the room misunderstood his intention, but Castiel didn’t know that. 

Professor Crane sneered at Castiel, and then released Lisa from the Imperius Curse just in time. Both student and teacher watched as Lisa seemed to come out of a fog, dropping the paperweight on the ground. She looked like she was in shock, glancing back and forth between the paperweight and her terrified, crying friend. 

Castiel was sick to his stomach, but he kept his face as neutral as possible. He was too smart to think this was anywhere near over. Professor Crane seemed to take Castiel’s air of indifference as a sign that they were of a same mind, which… they definitely were not. He called Castiel to the front to take Lisa’s place as she sat back down in a trembling heap. 

He braced himself to have an Unforgivable Curse hurled at him, but it didn’t come. Instead, he was told to pick another student. Castiel scanned the room, looking for anyone that didn’t appear terrified. He came up short, as every single face in the room mirrored how he actually felt, despite his unwillingness to let his expression betray that. He chose Newt Scamander, a fellow 6th year Hufflepuff whom Castiel thought might be able to handle whatever was about to be thrown at him. 

Newt nodded to Castiel, a silent acknowledgment that he knew this wasn’t personal. He stood and made his way down to Professor Crane and Castiel, and stood silently. 

Professor Crane looked between them with an eyebrow raised. “One of you will need to perform the curse on the other one. I don’t think I need to make all of your decisions for you, but if one of you doesn’t take the initiative… I’m sure the rest of the class would enjoy watching your reactions to a  _ different  _ Unforgivable Curse.” 

_ Bastard. Evil, twisted, bastard.  _ Castiel forced his eyes to meet Newt’s, who looked frozen. There were only three Unforgivable Curses, and by all counts, the Imperius Curse was the most mild.  _ If Professor Crane was threatening to use one of the others…  _ He shuddered at the thought. Torture or death would be their options if he and Newt failed to do this. He spent a moment longer trying to plead silently with Newt, but it was clear the boy wasn’t getting the hint. Castiel knew that trying to cast an Unforgivable Curse when you don’t  _ really  _ mean it could be dangerous, so he focused his mind on one thing: control Newt Scamander to help him calm down. He let that singular goal engulf him as he pointed his wand at his friend, and said, “ _ Imperio.”  _

When Castiel made it back to the Hufflepuff common room that night, he was spent. He didn’t stop to talk to anyone on his way to the boys dorms, which meant he didn’t notice the way that every single one of them pointedly ignored him. He didn’t notice the way that Newt flattened himself against the wall as Castiel passed him, or the way that Charlie Bradbury dropped the plant she was moving, shattering the pot it was in. All he knew was how badly he needed to get some sleep, some peace and quiet. He pulled off his robe and kicked off his shoes, but couldn’t be bothered to change into his pajamas. He collapsed onto his four-poster bed, curling in on himself.

Exhaustion tugged at his bones and he truly didn’t know if he’d ever felt so low. Professor Crane hadn’t stopped with Newt. When he realized that Castiel had not only the magical ability to cast such a curse, but also apparently the  _ will  _ to, he had forced him to repeat the process on 4 other students. 5 times. He had cast an Unforgivable Curse 5 times, and he had hated every one of them.  _ At least I was able to control it. I used it to calm them, not to make them hurt themselves or others. No one did anything embarrassing or dangerous while I was in control of them. I helped them get through that lesson. I helped them. I helped.  _ He repeated that phrase in his mind until he finally, mercifully, fell asleep. 


	4. Us and Them

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Choosing, and where we threw brevity out the window.

_ Dean _

Dean woke up on the morning of October 1st with a sense of fear that he hasn’t known since he was a child. The last time he felt like this, his mom had just looked him in the face and said, “Your dad’s on a hunting trip, and he hasn’t been home in a few days.” Him and Sam were shipped off to their Grandpa Henry’s, and he didn’t end up seeing either one of his parents for almost a month. This felt pretty similar to that.  Like at any moment, he could be ripped from his family and never see them again. It was a very real possibility. He had officially hit the trifecta - Muggle Born, a Gryffindor, and a 5th year, which meant his name would be dropped into the Goblet of Fire for consideration at the Choosing. He’d heard stories that the Goblet was once used for something called the Triwizard Tournament, but that hadn’t been held in decades. If Dean was being honest with himself, he’d have loved to try and win that. He’d have begged the Goblet to choose his name for the Tournament, but this? This is a death sentence no matter what happens. If you win, you become part of Voldemort’s little death squad, and if you lose, you die. Neither of those sounded like appealing options to him, because neither one of them involved ever seeing his family again. Sure, he and his dad had hit their rough patches over the years, but they were still family. The thought of never seeing his dad again, or his mom, or his brother Sammy filled him with dread and made it almost impossible for him to go about his day with any semblance of normalcy.

But somehow, he did. He was already accustomed to not paying attention in History of Magic, so when we walked out of Professor Amara’s stuffy classroom that afternoon without having taken a single note or retaining a single word she said, it wasn’t out of the ordinary. He found Lisa as she was coming out of her Divination lesson, and she looked  _ cheerful.  _ Dean couldn’t believe it.  _ Maybe she forgot what day it is? How could she forget? It’s the only damn thing I’ve been able to think about for months.  _ He his eyebrows were pinched together as he looked at her, “What the hell are you guys smokin’ up there? Can I get some?”

Lisa just beamed at him. “Don’t worry about it, Dean. The Choosing, I mean. You’re not going to get picked, and neither am I. I’ve seen it.”

How she could say that like it was the most normal thing on the planet was beyond Dean, but he was aware that Seers existed. He just never got the impression that his girlfriend was one of them. “What do you mean you saw it? That’s insane.” She just shook her head, then laughed. Actually  _ laughed,  _ on the day of the Choosing.  _ That’s it, my girlfriend lost her damn mind. Took a swan dive off the deep end. Perfect, that’s just what I needed right now.  _ He shrugged it off and decided to play along, because if nothing else… he desperately needed a distraction from the thought that his own name was going to come sputtering out of the blue flame of the Goblet and announce the end for him. “Okay then, who is it? Who’s the Gryffindor fifth year that gets picked?”

Her smile didn’t fade as she said, “Neville Longbottom.” Dean was temporarily taken aback by this, because he thought that Neville was a pureblood. Then he remembered that his girlfriend wasn’t actually a Seer, and probably just misinterpreted a cluster of randomly placed tea leaves. “Listen, sunshine, I hate to burst your bubble here, but you’re wrong. Neville ain’t muggle born, and he ain’t a magical creature. His name won’t even make it in the Goblet of Fire to be chosen.” She simply shook her head, the smile remaining right where it has been since she descended those attic stairs from the Divination room. “I don’t know how, Dean, but I’m telling you I  _ saw  _ it. He’s the fifth year, we’re safe.” She stood on her tiptoes to kiss him, and he did his best to return it.

“C’mon, Lis. We gotta get back to the common room, Professor Mills will be comin’ to get us in like 20 minutes.” He grabbed her hand and took her back to the common room, half-heartedly muttering the entry password, “Colt,” to the Fat Lady. Moving portraits was something that still startled Dean despite his years at the castle, which was full of them. She nodded to them from her portrait and swung open, letting them inside.

Dean could feel the tension in the room the second the portrait swung closed behind him and Lisa. Usually, the Gryffindor Common Room was a place of fun, laughter, and shenanigans. Today, every face he saw looked solemn. His eyes swept the room, making a mental note of all the friends that he’s made over the last four plus years, and also noting that Neville Longbottom was  _ not  _ one of the students spread throughout the room in varying degrees of distress. He swallowed, sitting down in one of the empty seats and pulling Lisa down onto his lap. He didn’t want to admit it, but a part of him had hoped Lisa had been right. It seemed fair, didn’t it? That after years of muggle borns, vampires, werewolves and the like getting chosen for this, that a pureblood would finally know what it was like? He let out a slow breath, and thought about trying to make conversation to pass the time. As he chanced another look around the room, it became clear to him that the only one in the mood for any kind of talking was Lisa. And as glad as he was that she was able to go into this with a light heart, he didn’t want to talk about the impossibility of Neville Longbottom being chosen instead of him for another second. Hope was something he couldn’t afford; something he could  _ never _ afford.

It seemed like an eternity passed before their Head of House, Professor Mills walked through the portrait of the Fat Lady and addressed them all. She looked haggard, like she’d been awake for several days and put through some serious trouble during it. “I have news, and not good news. It has been decided that this year, we will be entering more than just the muggle-borns and creatures into the Choosing.” She put her finger to her mouth and whistled the beginning notes of “The Lion Sleeps Tonight,” which was our own personal Gryffindor pager. Soon enough, students started trickling in from their dorms, causing the common room to become almost unbearably stuffy. Professor Mills pressed on quickly - it almost seemed to Dean like she was trying to convince herself that this news was like removing a band-aid, best to be handled quickly and without mercy. “Any witch, wizard or creature shown to have less than average magical abilities will be entered this evening as well, regardless of blood status.” The silence that met that statement was deafening, but it was nothing compared to what happened after the first student dared to whisper to another. It started as a low hum, confused voices traded back and forth in the dim light from the fire. A couple of older purebloods cried, quietly at first, but getting louder as the voices around them did.

Dean just sat, as quietly as ever. Lisa turned on his lap to face him, trying to keep a solemn expression for the sake of everyone else in the room. “I told you, Dean. You’re safe. I’m safe. Sirius is safe. So are Remus, and James and Peter. And Sammy; Sammy’s still going to have his big brother. It  _ isn’t  _ going to be you.”

From the corner of his eye, he could see all the colour had drained from Neville’s face. He still wasn’t sure he believed Lisa, he’d never put much stock in Divination, but he pointedly looked away from Neville just in case. His heart rate slowed down as he realized that it didn’t matter if Neville was chosen specifically, because with the new rule, the victim pool just got a lot bigger. He stood up after Lisa removed herself from his lap and paced, biting the skin around his thumb. It seemed like Professor Mills was trying to give the purebloods a chance to say goodbye to their friends in case they’re chosen. That’s something Dean himself had refused to do. If his number was up and it was time to go, that was it. And if it wasn’t going to be him, he certainly didn’t want to put himself through the pain of goodbyes just to have to do it all again the following year.

The skin around Dean’s right thumbnail was practically gone by the time Professor Mills led them in a single file line out of the Common Room and into the Great Hall. He shifted uncomfortably on his feet, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. He’d never seen this part before, the fourth years weren’t allowed to attend. No one was, actually, unless your name was going into the Goblet of Fire. He took a seat between Finnick and Lisa, and put his head in his hands. He tried to steady his breathing to stop the oncoming panic attack, but that seemed to be as effective as tea-leaf reading.

 

_ Castiel _

October 1st was a day Castiel dreaded every year and it was particularly the morning. When we woke up, he didn’t open his eyes. He swung his arm up and over to hit the snooze button on his alarm clock.  _ What if I just… didn’t go? What if I just stayed here in bed, covered myself in the blankets and hid. Would it work?  _ He laughed out loud to himself at how ridiculous he sounded and threw the blankets off of himself, swung his legs off the side of the bed and sat up. He rubbed his eyes and yawned, doing everything in his power to ignore the pit that was engulfing his stomach. He slid out of the bed and opened his wardrobe, his eyes scanning his options for clothing. He laughed out loud again because  _ as if he had much choice. _ He grabbed his house clothes, a polo and some fancier pants, sliding them on. He studied himself in the mirror, eyeing the gold and black on his uniform.

For some reason, right now, Castiel hated the colours gold and black. Today was the day of the Choosing and he could very well end up representing the sixth year Hufflepuffs in The Mudblood Games. Castiel wouldn’t consider himself a dreamer, he couldn’t remember the last time he had a nice dream. It must’ve been before he came to Hogwarts. He didn’t have nightmares either, because in his mind, October 1st  _ was _ a living nightmare. After getting dressed, he fixed his hair and brushed his teeth, headed out to the Hufflepuff common room.

“Castiel!” Hael grinned, greeting him at door. “How was your night yesterday? Did you sleep well?”

He squinted slightly but decided to do his best to be positive today. He forced a smile and nodded. “I did, yes. Did you?”

She shrugged a little bit, crossing her arms. “It was okay, I was sad we didn’t get the chance to talk more.”

He frowned, looking at her. “I’m sorry, I left right after the Quidditch game, I have so many spells I need to learn.”

She raised her eyebrow, a small smirk tugged at her lips. “Perhaps one day I can study with you.”

“Hael,” he started, speaking low, “I don’t mean to be a, uh, glass-half-empty kind of guy, but I don’t think today is an appropriate day for that.”

“You’re afraid,” she spoke loudly.

Cass glanced around the common room, hoping no one heard that. He grabbed Hael by the arm and led her out of the common room, into the empty stairwell. He looked to the ground and nodded once. “Listen, Hael, I am scared. I believe everyone is, but you can’t tell anyone, okay? For some reason people chose  _ me _ to look up to, and I need to keep myself calm and collected so I look as held together as possible, okay?”

Her eyes were a little bit wide, but she nodded. “Yeah, Castiel, okay. You do know you can be afraid, right? No one’s going to think you’re weak or less of a wizard because you have emotions. The Mudblood Games are a scary thing, it could be you or I that gets chosen today. That’s a really scary thought.”

He clenched his fists as she spoke, his heart race increasing. When she mentioned the possibility of being chosen, he exploded. “Enough, Hael!”

She jumped back, crossing her arms over chest and looking to the ground. “I- I’m sorry, Castiel. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“Hael,” he let out a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment. “I’m sorry. It’s just- I need to pretend to be okay, okay? If I don’t, I’ll crumble to the ground and everyone will follow my actions, okay? If I panic, they panic. If I’m calm, they’re calm. Do you understand?” He opened his eyes in time to see Hael nod.

“Yes, Castiel, I understand,” she breathed out shakily as Castiel wraps his arms around her in a friendly hug.

“How are you doing, Hael?” he whispered, pulling back from the hug. He scanned her face, and he immediately knew what the answer was going to be.

“I’m terrified,” she swallowed hard. “I feel like I’m going to break down into tears, I don’t know how you can hide your emotion so well.”

_ Years of practice, that’s how.  _ He nodded, looking at her. “Keep it together anyway. You have to keep it together anyway.”

She closed her eyes. “I’m going to get breakfast, I’ll meet you back in the common room.” With that, she left, and Castiel is alone in the stairwell. In fit of anger he kicked the wall and then punched it, because none of this was fair.

He took a moment to compose himself and bury his fear, before heading back into the common room. He mingled with a few other Hufflepuffs, assuring them that everything would be okay. Hael returned at some point and she seemed to be feeling better and even joined in on their conversations. Ten minutes later, the room fell silent. Castiel turned to see what happened and why there was a sudden change, before his eyes landed in the doorway.

Professor Hanscum was standing there as she looked out over her Hufflepuffs. “Good morning, everyone!” The room was silent, other than the occasional mumbling of “morning.” Professor Hanscum was usually very cheery. She had a great attitude, she always managed to see the bright side of things. She came into the Hufflepuff common room with her bright personality, but when she saw the state of the students, she knew she needed to tone it down. “Can I have everyone down here please?” She motioned to the area in front of her, full of bean bag chairs partially sectioned off from the rest of the room by a line of potted cacti. Her eyes shifted over the sea of gold and black. Many of the students moved down to meet her as Castiel tilted his head and grabbed a chair, standing up on it so he could see over all the others. Professor Hanscum smiled sadly at all of them. “Got some bad news, fellas.  This year, the Choosing is fixing to be a little different. It seems like more than just the muggle-borns and magical creatures will be entered into the Choosing.”

Castiel’s stomach sank and he wasn’t even sure why. He swallowed hard and nodded, urging the Professor Hanscum to continue. She met Castiel’s eyes and smiled with a look of sympathy, before she spoke. “Any witch, wizard or creature shown to have less than average magical abilities will be entered this evening as well, regardless of blood status.”

_ What the hell? Why? Why change The Mudblood Games now? What does this mean?  _ He realized his hands are slightly shaky so he shoved his hands in his pockets. The silent room wasn’t so silent when Castiel tuned back in and he realized Professor Hanscum was gone. He stepped off the chair he was stood on, looking around the room. Many people were crying and he didn’t know what to do or feel, because he  _ actually _ felt safe.

Although he may be a half-blood, he was an extremely talented wizard, which is one of the reasons he figured that all the other Hufflepuffs looked up to him. Charlie made her way up to him, her eyes filled with tears. “I’m a terrible wizard _and_ I’m muggle-born!”

“Hey, you’re going to be okay,” another voice called. Castiel turned to see Garth Fitzgerald approach, before he hugged Charlie gently. “I’m a much worse wizard than you, remember when I blew up that potion?”

Charlie laughed lightly as Garth wrapped his arm around her shoulders, leading her away from the comotion. Cass noticed Hael duck out of the common room, so he pushed his way through and followed her. “Hael, wait!”

Hael paused and turned back to him. “What is it, Castiel?”

He approached her slowly. “Are you- are you okay?”

She laughed a little bitterly and looked to the ground. “You’re safe tonight, Castiel. There’s no way your name is going to be called.”

“That’s not true, there’s still a-,”

“The slimmest chance ever, Castiel! You’re a stupidly talented wizard, there’s no way they’re sending you to the Games.”

“You’re going to be safe too, Hael,” he breathed out, scanning her face and her shaky body. “I promise you.”

“Perhaps you shouldn’t make promises you can’t keep,  _ Novak. _ ”

He watched her turn and storm down the hallway again as he tilted his head up to look at the ceiling. In this very moment, he knew what he had to do.  _ If Hael Vetter is called, I’m going to volunteer.  _ He took a moment and then re-entered the common room, finding a couch in the back that was empty.

And sure enough, Professor Hanscum returned 15 minutes later. She watched and waited as they formed a single file line, before she led them to the Great Hall. Castiel realized there was someone in his usual seat, but he didn’t care. Not today, at least.

He slid into the seat between Justin Flinch-Fletchley and Newt Scamander, whose bowtruckle Groot was peeking out of his robes. Castiel almost smiled at it, but his eyes shifted to the scene in front of him. There wasn’t much on the platform that usually held the Professor’s table at feasts, just a few chairs and a small table where the Goblet of Fire was placed. He turned to the door, watching the Slytherins file in and he shook his head slightly.

“Are you nervous?” Justin spoke low, leaning towards Castiel but not taking his eyes off the stage.

Castiel was getting  _ really _ tired of being asked that question. “No.”

“Are you sure?” Newt leaned over, adding his two cents.

“Yes,” Castiel replied, sitting forward in his chair to avoid how close Newt and Justin’s faces were to his own. “We’re all going to be fine.”

“You don’t know that,” Hael called from beside Newt. “Just because you’re guaranteed safe, doesn’t mean the rest of us are.”

He couldn’t help but roll his eyes, falling silent. No one was safe, the Goblet didn’t spare people because they were good at magic. On the contrary, last year some of the brightest witches and wizards were chosen. His eyes landed on the door again as the Gryffindors entered. When he saw Dean Winchester enter, his eyes started to roll again until he saw how…  _ vulnerable  _ he looked. Castiel averted his eyes and shifted in his seat, reminded once again that when it came to the Choosing, no one was better or worse than anyone else. They were all afraid.

A few minutes later, all of the Houses had entered and found their place and section, and had sat down. The room fell silent automatically as Professor Shurley walked through the double doors, accompanied by the four Hogwarts’ Head of Houses. The five of them made their way to the front of the room and gathered near the Goblet. He  _ almost _ looked sad, and Castiel had a feeling he was struggling to keep it together.  _ You and me both, Professor Shurley. Please don’t choose my name- or actually, maybe do. Save some of these people. _

“Hello, everyone, and welcome to the uhh, what are we up to now, 9th? 10th?” One of the Professors behind him whispered something to him and he continued, clearing his throat. “The Twelfth Annual Mudblood Games. I’m Professor and Headmaster Chuck Shurley, and I-,” he paused, and finally his face fell, “I’m in charge of overseeing the drawing the names each year for the MudBlood Games. The Choosing Ceremony starts the beginning of the Games, even though you may not be in Purgatory yet. As you all know, a member from each house and each year beginning at year five will be chosen. If your name is chosen, I ask you to join me up here in the front.” He fell silent, taking a moment to study each section of houses. “We thank you for your noble sacrifices.”

“As if we have a choice!” someone shouted from across the room. Castiel turned his head toward the voice, recognizing the owner.  _ Finnick Odair, sixth year Gryffindor. You’re an absolute idiot. _ He watched as Professor Shurley fixed his eyes on Finnick, and he could have sworn some sort of silent communication passed between them, because Finnick sat back down and said nothing else.

Castiel let out a slow breath as he looked to Justin and shrugged, turning his attention back to the stage when Professor Shurley cleared his throat. “Sorry about the interruption, everyone. We can now continue as planned.”

 

_ Dean _

 

“ _ Finnick, what the fuck! _ ” Dean whispered urgently, pulling him back down to his seat. His eyes traveled to the group of wizards standing behind their professors and his heart began beating rapidly. “Those guys  _ can  _ and  _ will  _ kill you, do you remember the story of what happened to that guy Rufus Turner?” Rufus had been a 7th year Gryffindor, up for his last year of the Choosing. From what Dean had heard, Rufus’s name wasn’t chosen, but his best friend Bobby Singer’s was. Rufus had gone a little mad, if the legend could be believed. He’d stood up and fired a curse at the Death Eater that had been in charge of the Choosing back then. Voldemort had originally wanted his supporters to handle this- the Death Eaters.  _ What kind of a dumbass name was that, anyway? You can’t eat death.  _ But Rufus Turner had fired that curse in defiance of the whole thing, refusing to let his friend be taken. The stories claim that Rufus was killed on the spot, his body left where it fell for the remainder of the Choosing. Bobby was taken anyway, and he didn’t win. After that, Professor Shurley was given this particular responsibility, in hopes that no one else would go firing off jinxes or be dumb enough to fight back. Now, the Death Eaters were on hand to take the Chosen away, but otherwise remained standing in the back, silent and ominous.

Finnick just shrugged. Dean wasn’t stupid enough to say anything else, but he couldn’t get his heart rate back under control. He was vaguely aware of Professor Shurley recounting a history of the Games - the losers, the winners and where they are now. He looked around the room, desperate to find  _ someone  _ that had their shit together, and his eyes fell on Castiel Novak. He could see his bright blue eyes even from two tables away, but they didn’t hold their usual quiet confidence. Today, Castiel was just as afraid as he was; although to the untrained eye, Castiel looked positively bored. Dean was well-equipped to catch the signs of fear even when there didn’t seem to be any. It was something his dad taught him before he got his letter. Reading people was a necessary trait for a hunter of the supernatural, since a lot of the time monsters --  _ magical creatures,  _ he mentally corrected himself -- looked just like regular humans.

“Some of you will already know the rest of this, but for all of the fifth years joining us today, I will explain how this works,” Professor Shurley said, regaining his confidence. “If you are chosen, you will be leaving Hogwarts for good.” Dean watched as Professor Shurley glanced back at the Death Eaters, and seemed to deflate a little bit. “Those whose names come out of the Goblet will be leaving with them, to an undisclosed location. Once there, each of you will have an opportunity to show your strengths.” He lowered his voice as he continued, almost as though he was afraid of what would happen if he did said these next words out loud: “Each and every one of you has strength. Regardless of blood status or how much you think you know, you’re strong. You’re smart, and you’re capable. You deserve better. Please remember tha--” His words were cut short when one of the larger Death Eaters stepped forward and grabbed him roughly. Dean stood up quickly, but couldn’t do anything but watch as Professor Shurley was hauled out of the Great Hall.

As his eyes travelled back towards the front of the room, he noticed he wasn’t the only one on his feet. The mostly empty Slytherin table was still seated, of course, but there were a handful of others scattered throughout the room that were doing the exact same thing he was. He noticed Sirius a few seats down and panicked slightly.  _ What the fuck is Sirius doing here? He’s a pureblood, and way better at magic than most of the kids in this school. There’s no reason for him to be here, unless -- no, you’d know if your best friend was a magical creature. It’s gotta be something else.  _ Even further down from Sirius was a guy he knew only as Thresh, his features twisted in anger. He spotted two Ravenclaws he didn’t recognize and then his eyes fell on Castiel, standing alone at the Hufflepuff table and staring right back at him. Dean blinked first, and was surprised when he started to calm down. Usually seeing Castiel pissed him off, but something about this was different. They were the same, tonight. Not a Hufflepuff and a Gryffindor, or a sixth year and a fifth year. Not a half-blood and a mudblood. They were just Cass and Dean, and if Cass was going to stand there looking unbothered, then so was Dean. He knew Castiel was afraid, and Dean was too, but they could hide it. They could be strong for those around them.

His epiphany of imagined comradery was interrupted by Seneca Crane, shouting for everyone to sit back down. Castiel broke eye contact with him as he obeyed, and Dean quickly did the same.

Professor Crane was also, apparently, a Death Eater. Something about that didn’t surprise Dean in the slightest, as he was technically their Dark Arts professor. He’d only had a handful of lessons with him so far, but they’d been increasingly horrific.

Crane stepped back, making room for another Death Eater. He spoke quickly. “My name is Caesar Flickerman, and unlike your Headmaster, I don’t feel the need to give the majority of you details about what is to come. If you’re lucky enough to be chosen, you will be briefed on the rules. If not, you will go back to your sad, miserable lives until next year’s Choosing.” He walked over to the Goblet of Fire and stood next to it. “Half-bloods, mudbloods,  _ creatures _ of all kinds. Blood traitors, rebels, and general disgraces to your heritage. You’re all here by Voldemort’s grace to be given a second chance - a chance to be better than your ancestors. May the odds be ever in your favor.”

At those words, the Goblet of Fire’s ice blue flames sparked blood red, and a single piece of parchment appeared from it. Flickerman grabbed it from the air and read aloud, “Hannah Abbott? Never heard of her, who is --” He turned to Seneca Crane, who muttered something to him. “Ahh, yes. Hufflepuff 5th year, half-blood. Very good, very good. Hannah, make your way to the front.” Dean looked around to find her, and it didn’t take long. Her knees were knocking together so loudly he was sure the groundskeeper Hagrid could hear it from his hut. To her credit, she took her place and stilled.

Dean watched as the flames turned red again, and Flickerman announced the next name. “Vincent Crabbe, our Slytherin 5th year! I know this one, he’s a pureblood.” Flickerman made a face that closely resembled disgust. “Talk about your disappointments, am I right?” Once again, Dean’s eyes searched for the victim. He recognized Crabbe as the other Slytherin he saw with Glimmer and Jack Morningstar outside of Transfiguration earlier that month.

It was slowly occurring to Dean that they were doing this by year, so the next two names would mean everything. If neither name was his, he would be safe. He felt a surge of panic as the next name made its way out of the briefly red flames, but it would seem that he still had a little longer to wait.

“Kevin Tran! This must be our Ravenclaw 5th year, am I correct?” Flickerman looked towards a very scared boy that Dean assumed must be Kevin, and used the most condescending tone of voice he had ever heard. “Mr. Tran, do you know why you’ve been chosen?” Kevin stood slowly and nodded. “I’m a Seer, sir.” Caesar Flickerman sneered. “At least your parents instilled some respect in you. I’ll be keeping an eye on you. We could use a few of you on our side, if you ask me.” Dean shuddered as he watched Kevin take his place next to Vincent Crabbe and Hannah Abbott. This was it, no turning back. The next name out of the Goblet would be the Gryffindor 5th year, and Dean was gripping the edge of the table so hard in fear and anticipation that he was practically lifted off of his seat. He heard Lisa whisper behind him, “Relax, it’s not you, it’s Neville, remember? You’re fine, Dean. You’re safe.”

Dean’s breathing stopped entirely as the fourth name forced its way from the Goblet. “The 5th year representative from Gryffindor will be.. Neville Longbottom!” Flickerman looked around to find Neville, who was frozen in his seat. “File you under ‘disgrace to your bloodline,’ boy. I don’t imagine you’ll last very long.”

When Neville didn’t move, or make any indication that he’d heard him at all, a Death Eater came down and retrieved him. Dean’s brain shorted out a little, not only was he  _ safe _ , but his girlfriend was also, apparently, a Seer. He let out the breath he was holding and realized he was shaking.  _ Safe. Safe. I’m safe. We’re all safe. _

_ Castiel _

Castiel watched Dean as the Gryffindor fifth year’s name was read out. He told himself it was simply because he didn’t know any other Gryffindor fifth years, but that was decidedly a lie. He knew Lisa, for example, who was sitting right next to Dean.  _ Maybe I should look at her instead.  _ But, truth be told, Castiel didn’t want to look at Lisa Braeden. He didn’t particularly want to look at Dean, either. He wanted to be in the safety of his dorm, laying under the blankets in his four-poster bed. Safe and away from all of this.

It was his turn now, he knew. Caesar Flickerman had asked if there were any volunteers willing to take the place of one of the unlucky fifth years, but of course, no one did. Castiel remembered the promise he made to himself that if Hael was chosen, he would take her place. Now, in this room, faced with the prospect of actually having to do it? He was suddenly very glad he didn’t verbalize that particular bit of chivalry. He was glad, at least, that he would be getting this over with quickly. The fifth year selections started with Hufflepuff, and that meant the sixth year selections would too. He only had a few moments longer to wait. Just a few…

“Meg Masters!” Flickerman yelled. “Ahh, yes, our first mudblood, not much of an explanation needed there. Gryffindor, judging by the robes.” Castiel’s eyes widened, this wasn’t how they were supposed to do this, there should be an  _ order, why isn’t there order?  _ His eyes followed Meg as she became the first of the sixth years chosen and took her place with the others. Castiel shifted in his seat as the flames turned red.

“Gloss Livingston! Ravenclaw, I believe she’s a half-blood, is that correct? I think I hexed her father once…” Gloss’s face was bright red and her shoulders were slumped as she stood up from her seat. Castiel sighed as she walked.  _ Backward. They’re going backward. There is an order, of course there is, it’s just the order that makes me wait the longest. _

He felt a lump in his throat as Marvel Henderson - muggle-born, yet talented -  became the Slytherin’s sixth year representative. It was time, he was sure of it now. He licked his lip and glanced at Hael, who was crying silently next to him. He put an arm around her hesitantly, but pulled away when she leaned into his side. He straightened his back and kept his face as straight as possible given the absolute hurricane of fear raging inside of him.

The flames turned red and spit out the next name. Flickerman was silent too long as he looked at it, and Castiel was mentally begging him to just  _ read the damn name already.  _ “Garth Fitzgerald! Hufflepuff sixth year and… werewolf?” Flickerman turned to Seneca Crane for confirmation, and he nodded once. Castiel was shocked at the news that his friend hid the fact that he was a werewolf from him, but his heart broke for him all the same. He turned to face him as Garth stood; his long, spindly legs making him even clumsier than the fear was doing on its own. Castiel reached out and squeezed his arm as he passed, but it was clear Garth didn’t notice. He couldn’t take his eyes off of his friend as he took his place at the front with all the others. He felt tears well in his eyes but he forced them back, he would  _ not  _ allow himself to cry here.

_ Dean _

It wasn’t Dean’s fault that Castiel had been sitting near the boy that was just chosen, so it _also_ wasn’t Dean’s fault that his eyes lingered on him long enough to see the tears in his eyes. _They were friends. Castiel is losing a_ ** _friend._** He allowed himself one moment to feel badly for him before Castiel controlled his facial expression and Dean snapped out of it.

Once again, Caesar Flickerman called for volunteers, but none stepped forward. Dean wasn’t surprised by this, it had been 4 years since anyone had offered to take the place of a chosen tribute. He wondered if he’d ever be able to have that kind of courage. He guessed maybe if it was Sirius or Lisa, he’d be able to, or at the very least - he wanted to  _ think  _ he would. But where would that leave Sam? He wouldn’t allow himself to consider the possibility that Sam would ever be chosen, but if Dean ended up volunteering for someone else, he’d be leaving Sam alone with just their parents. He felt another twinge of fear at that, and was grateful it wouldn’t be happening - at least not yet.

He looked back to the front to see that the first of the seventh years was already up there, her yellow and black Hufflepuff robes wrapped tightly around her. Mags Gallagher, he thought he heard her name was. She, too, was muggle born - as was Ruby Cortese -the final Slytherin tribute that was proudly walking towards the others with a triumphant look on her face.  _ There’s always one. _ He’d never met the Ravenclaw ‘blood traitor’ - Flickerman’s words, not Dean’s - but he was sad nonetheless when Romilda Vane started crying uncontrollably and refused to leave her seat when she was called. He was paying full attention now, and grimaced when he remembered the rough treatment Neville had received when he had refused to move.

Two of the Death Eaters behind Flickerman descended upon Romilda and attempted to use physical force to move her, but she was strong. Dean was almost impressed by the way she held them off, until one of the Death Eaters stepped back and pointed his wand at her. “ _ Levicorpus _ !” Romilda was immediately hoisted into the air by her ankle, her body swinging wildly as she attempted to right herself. Dean was horrified, and was trying to think of the counter-jinx because  _ no one  _ should have to deal with that, especially not with what she’s facing.

It wouldn’t come to him, however. His mind was uselessly blank as he watched that Death Eater guide Romilda’s flailing, upside-down body towards the front of the room. Someone in the room must have remembered it though, because before they made it to their destination, she was abruptly dropped. He would have thought the Death Eater had done it on purpose if it wasn’t for the fact that he whirled around, his eyes wild as he scanned the room. “Who did that! Which one of you wretched pieces of filth would  _ dare  _ to undermine me?” Dean’s face turned red, he couldn’t have done it, could he have? He didn’t remember the word, and while he knew that both the jinx and counter-jinx were meant to also work non-verbally, you still need to know the incantation to make it work. He flicked his eyes around the room, landing on face after confused face, until he saw what he was looking for. Castiel looked guiltier than Sammy had after he stole Dean’s last piece of pie last Christmas. He narrowed his eyes, not forgetting what Lisa told him about her first Dark Arts lesson with Castiel.  _ The guy had performed Unforgivable Curses on people, why would he be helping Romilda?  _ He assumed that Castiel must be looking guilty for a different reason, and he turned back to watch the poor girl. She had made it back to her feet and seemed to have learned better than to resist.

Despite the knowledge that he was safe, his gut was still twisting as the flames turned red for the final time. Caesar Flickerman read the name with the same level of bravado and showmanship that he did the first. “Thresh McKinney! Oh, I know some McKinney’s…  vampires, aren’t they?” Thresh stood from the Gryffindor table and flashed a set of jagged, pointy teeth. He didn’t seem excited  _ or  _ scared as he completed the set of tributes, he just seemed… emotionless. The hunter in Dean stirred at the sight of Thresh’s fangs, but he wasn’t that kid anymore. And Thresh would have enough people hunting him soon enough.

Flickerman clapped his hands together once, drawing the attention back to himself. “Volunteers for our seventh years? No? Well alright then, that’s it, everyone! You now have your 12 Mudblood Games tributes. Let’s give them all a big round of applause!” He turned and gestured to the kids standing petrified next to him, but not a single person in the Great Hall clapped their hands. Flickerman looked momentarily put-out by the lack of enthusiastic response, but he pressed on. “Well then, if the rest of you would kindly make your way back to your dorms, I think this concludes the Choosing. I will see most of you next year.”

In a bit of a daze, Dean stood with the other Gryffindors. He was vaguely aware that Romilda was sobbing again, and he briefly caught sight of Castiel trying to say something to one of the tributes; the werewolf, Garth. Neville Longbottom looked as sad as he’s ever seen a person that wasn’t openly crying. Dean felt a couple of people bump into him on their way out as he stared at the boy, all too aware of how easily that could have been him. He wondered if he was now among one of the last people to ever see Neville alive, or if by some miracle he’d be the one that found his way out of Purgatory. Dean seriously doubted it, based on the look of some of the other tributes. But he could hope, because Neville deserved at least that much. Dean wondered for the first time if the tributes would be allowed time to say goodbye to their families, or if the teary-eyed farewells on Platform 9 ¾ were all they were going to get. He wasn’t sure which one would be harder, just letting go or saying goodbye all over again. It was something Dean knew he’d never have to find out, because even if he was chosen next year, he doubted his parents would come to say goodbye even if they were permitted to. He decided that he hoped for Neville’s sake that he would have a chance to say goodbye.

He was soon lost in the crowd of kids trying to escape the Great Hall, too shell-shocked by how horrific that entire thing was to put much effort into changing course.

 

_ Castiel _

Castiel wasn’t sure what to say to Garth, but he knew he should say  _ something.  _ He’d gathered that Garth didn’t have much of a family left, he had mentioned a couple of years ago that some muggles who fashioned themselves as supernatural hunters had taken out most of his pack. He leaned in as close to Garth as he could and simply said, “good luck.” He knew it wasn’t enough, it would never be enough. Garth was as good as dead, and everyone knew it. Even if he did manage to survive the Games and make it out, he’d be part of Voldemort’s world - he’d either have to become a killer, or he’d die anyway. Garth Fitzgerald wouldn’t hurt a fly, and it was that very gentleness that was about to be the end of him. Castiel’s stomach dropped even further and he once again found himself fighting back tears. He squeezed Garth’s hand, but the boy didn’t respond. He looked lost, and in that moment Castiel wished he would have had the guts to volunteer.

Things became very chaotic all at once. The Death Eaters started Apparating out of the Great Hall with the tributes, and the ones that remained spun wildly in last-ditch efforts not to be taken. He heard screeches from some of the kids that were still in the hall, and someone was loudly crying again.  _ Romilda? Or was that Mags?  _ Castiel made a quick decision and latched on to Garth’s arm, hoping to either go with him or keep him here. Neither of those things happened, as Castiel was hit with a stunning spell which caused him to let go of Garth. By the time he regained his faculties, Garth was gone. All of the tributes were, the whole lot of them had disappeared in less than 20 seconds.

Castiel swore loudly, now one of the only people left in the Great Hall. He noticed Caesar Flickerman and Seneca Crane conversing in the corner, and they turned to look at him when he made his outburst. “Better luck next year, son,” Flickerman said before turning back to Crane.

“Luck?! You’ve got to be -” his words were cut off as Hael grabbed him, Charlie on her heels.

“Castiel, shut up! You have to shut up, come on, we need to go!” Hael’s whispered words were urgent enough that Castiel forgot why he was so angry, and instead remembered his fear from earlier. The Choosing was over, but was it? Did they take extras if students were unruly, or  _ rebellious?  _ Castiel decided he wasn’t going to be the one that found out, and he allowed Hael and Charlie to lead him back to the common room.


	5. The Breakup Song

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Potions and Hogsmeade.

_ Dean _

Dean was smothered by a very large person hugging him the second he walked through the portrait of the Fat Lady. It was all messy hair and broad shoulders and the sound of his own name being triumphantly yelled in his ear. “Damnit, Sammy, get offa me!” Dean attempted to squirm out of his little brother’s grip, but it wasn’t doing him much good. He realized in a rush that Sam would have been sitting in this very room for the last couple of hours wondering if he’d ever see his brother again. Dean quickly hugged him back. “I’m okay, Sam. I’m fine, they didn’t pick me. I’m not goin’ anywhere, okay?” Sam squeezed him almost to the point of breaking a rib, and then let him go. 

“I’m sorry, Dean, I was just… “ Sam started, but couldn’t seem to find the words. 

Dean nodded. “I know, man, I know. Me too. But it’s done, you’re not gettin’ rid of me that easily.” He attempted to smile, he really was happy that he wasn’t chosen, but he couldn’t stop thinking about the faces of the kids that were. 

Sam was always a little too in tune with his brother’s emotions for Dean’s liking, and tonight was no exception. “It’s not your fault, Dean. There’s nothing you could have done to save any of them. And even if there  _ was,  _ you’re just a kid. It’s not your job.” 

“Look, I know that, okay? I do.” He wants to open up to Sam, to spill his guts about how horrible it was to watch Neville freeze up, or Romilda being forcefully taken from her seat and hung upside down. How gut-wrenching it felt to know that he’d never see those faces again, and he’d never even tried to get to know them. Who were they? What did they like to do for fun? What made them happy, scared… what were their fears? He was pretty sure that tonight, all of their fears were the same. 

Dean wasn’t going to tell Sam any of that, no matter how badly he wanted to. His brother wouldn’t have to deal with that reality for another year, so he certainly wasn’t going to force him to listen to Dean’s own experiences with it. He’d keep him sheltered from it for as long as he could. 

“Who was chosen?” The question didn’t come from Sam, as he’d expected, but from Alyssa Blake. Dean glanced at her briefly. “Neville Longbottom.” 

Alyssa frowned, then took a seat next to Sam on one of the couches and rested her head on his shoulder. Sam asked her if she knew him but she shook her head. “Not really, we’d seen each other in the library a few times and he was always kind to me, but I didn’t _ know _ him.” 

“Know who?” It was Lisa this time, who was climbing down the stairs from the girls dorms. She had a bottle in one hand and a few glasses cradled between her other arm and her side. She grinned as she made it to the bottom of the stairs and set everything down on the table. “I knicked some Firewhiskey from kitchens last night, just in case.” 

Finnick Odair leaned forward in his seat, and Dean took the seat next to him. “Neville Longbottom was who we were talking about, and thanks for the Firewhiskey. I think I need it.” He poured himself a glass and leaned back again. 

Lisa huffed. “Right, it’s a shame about Neville. He was giving me private Herbology lessons. How am I going to pass now?” 

Dean’s eyes widened. “He was just sent to the fucking Mudblood Games, and you’re worried about how you’re going to pass  _ Herbology?!”  _

Lisa looked at Dean like  _ he  _ was the one being rude. “Yes, Dean, I am. I’m sorry that life goes on after the Choosing, but it does. You knew Neville was going to be the one picked, I don’t know why you’re acting like such a baby over it all of a sudden.” 

Dean’s eyes widened even further. “All of a sudden? Lis, it just fucking happened! Not two hours ago! Those kids are all goners, and that doesn’t bother you even a little bit?” 

“No, it doesn’t. Because at the end of the day, I’m going to survive and so are you.” Lisa proceeded to point to each one of them in turn. “And you, and you, and you.” With that last one, she poked Finnick in the chest. He rubbed the spot and then grabbed her wrist gently, looking to Dean. “She’s right, Dean. It might seem harsh but it’s the truth. It could have been any one of us up there, we should be  _ celebrating.”  _

“Well ‘scuse me for not bein’ over the moon about the fact that we just watched 12 kids get sent to their deaths.” 

Sam cut in now, ever the voice of reason. “Whoa, guys, let’s just take a step back. I know everyone’s emotions are running high after that, so maybe we should just try to see things from both sides.” 

“Both sides? Dean only sees  _ his  _ side, just like always.” Lisa’s temper was rising, and it was showing. “Just like earlier, he didn’t believe me when I said I  _ saw  _ Neville getting picked. He told me I was wrong and looked at me like I belonged in St. Mungo’s. But I did, Sam. I saw it when I was in Divination… Professor Spencer even said it was real, and then it happened! But I bet your big, stupid brother  _ still  _ won’t believe me, because it doesn’t fit right into his perfect little world.” Lisa finished her outburst and sat down on Finnick’s other side, crossing her arms. 

Dean felt a little bit like he’d been physically slapped. Sure, she was right about the fact that he didn’t believe her at first, but that Professor she was talking about, Shawn Spencer? There were plenty of people that thought he was a fake psychic, Dean certainly wasn’t alone in that. Was it so much of a stretch to think anything that happened in his classroom was therefore fake as well?  _ Doesn’t fit right into his perfect little world.  _ Dean’s world was far from perfect, and one of the things he’d always liked most about Lisa was that she knew that. He never felt like he had to impress her or be something that he wasn’t. But now, looking over at her and the way she was looking back at him… he wasn’t convinced that  _ he  _ ever knew  _ her  _ at all. 

Finnick put his arm over the back of the couch behind Lisa, and it was enough to snap what little self-control Dean had left. “You know what Lisa, you’re right. It doesn’t fit into my perfect little world, and maybe you don’t either.” He stood up and glared at Finnick. “Have her, bud. She’s all yours.” He stomped toward the stairs to the boys’ dorms and climbed them two at a time, a whirlwind of sadness and anger inside of him. 

 

_ Castiel  _

 

Several days after the Choosing, Castiel descended the stairs to the Hogwarts dungeons for his Potions lesson. This was a class he now dreaded above all others. He excelled at potion making, and yet Professor Crowley had seen fit to throw him in with the Gryffindor fifth years. There were certain lessons that broke from the old O.W.L. (Ordinary Wizarding Level exams) schedule and became standardized for years five, six, and seven after Voldemort assumed control of Hogwarts and the wizarding world as a whole. The Dark Arts was one of them; the classes were intermixed with students from different houses and years. Potions, to Castiel’s dismay, was another. 

He swung the door open and walked in to the dimly lit room. He breathed in deeply; most people hated the permanent cloud that floated around the room from all of the potions made down here, but Castiel loved it. He could pick out each individual ingredient from the residue that hung in the air, and he liked to imagine what sort of potion it came from. Today, the cloud smelled faintly of honey and campfire mixed with the pages of an old book.  _ Maybe the students in the class before me were brewing Amortentia.  _ He shuddered at the thought, Amortentia was an extremely potent love potion. As he set his things down at his desk and went to the stockroom to grab his cauldron, he found himself praying that they wouldn’t be brewing one -- Hael was in this lesson too, and Professor Crowley had an awful tendency to make them test their potions out on each other. 

He returned to his seat just as several other students were finally making their way inside. Hael took her place to Castiel’s right, and he was surprised to find Dean Winchester on his left. He furrowed his brows and tilted his head; Dean usually sat by Lisa on the opposite end of the room. The seat he was occupying now had previously belonged to Meg Masters, but she was chosen for the Games and it had been empty since. He opened his mouth to ask Dean why he was sitting there just as Professor Crowley began to speak. 

“It would seem that the lot of you have been scurrying around the castle with your tails between your legs since the Choosing. I thought we’d set you back on the right paths today. You will be teaming up with the person directly to your left,” Castiel looked at Dean and groaned quietly as Crowley continued, “and brewing the an elixir to induce euphoria. As always, your grades will be based off of whether you kill your partner or not when they drink it. Best  _ not  _ to be your usual, moronic selves today. Any questions?” 

Castiel watched as Dean looked to his left and saw nothing but the dungeon wall, and then raise his hand. “Professor Crowley? I don’t have anyone to my left, does that mean I can work alone?” 

Crowley growled quietly. “You’ve got the brain of a squirrel, you know that, don’t you? You’ll be partnered with Novak, since you’re to  _ his  _ left. I hope for his sake you can brew better than you can use common sense, but based on your performances thus far… I’d think not.” 

Castiel sighed as Crowley dismissed them to begin brewing their potions. He pulled out his copy of  _ Advanced Potion Making  _ and flipped to the correct page. He scanned the ingredients list. “Okay, we need shrivelfig, porcupine quills, castor beans, and wormwood.” He turned to Dean, who was frowning at the empty cauldron. “Would you like to get the ingredients, or should I?” 

Dean looked up at Castiel and shrugged, and he couldn’t help but notice that usual mischievous glint was gone from Dean’s eyes. He cleared his throat. “I’ll get them, can you get the flame going?” He didn’t wait for Dean to answer as he made his way back to the stockroom, inching around other students and gathering what they would need.  _ It’s not like he’s ever been polite to you, this won’t be any different. Just brew the potion. Maybe if you do it well enough and make him drink it, he’ll stop being rude for five minutes.  _ He went back to Dean and set the ingredients down. 

Dean was absentmindedly poking at the flame under the cauldron with his wand, making it changed colours and temperatures. Castiel cleared his throat to get his attention. Dean looked up and appeared almost surprised to see him standing there. “Huh? Oh, yeah, go ahead. Shrivelfigs are first, right?” Dean reached over Castiel and grabbed the necessary amount and dropped them in the cauldron. The potion turned a turquoise colour, and then Dean started to stir it. As he stirred, he repeatedly flicked his eyes to Castiel’s, and then back down to the potion. 

After about the fourth time of this happening, Castiel was curious. “What are you doing?” 

Dean just kept doing it, and muttered, “supposed to stir till it turns blue, right? You’re eyes are pretty damn blue. Just usin’ ‘em as a reference point, that’s all.” 

Castiel’s stomach did a little flip, but he rolled his eyes. “I think it’s blue enough, we need to let it simmer now. It’s supposed to turn yellow before we add the porcupine quills.” When Dean didn’t immediately stop stirring, Castiel swatted his hand away. “Professor Crowley wasn’t kidding about you. Except, I think even squirrels listen better.” 

Dean scowled at him and sat down in his seat, crossing his arms. “Fine, if you’re so damn clever, brew it without me. It ain’t like I’ll ever need to know how to do this again.” 

Castiel opened his mouth to argue, but was again interrupted - this time by Hael. She put her hand on his arm. “Do you know how many porcupine quills we’ll need? The book doesn’t say.” 

He pursed his lips slightly and leaned over her arm to look at his own book. “It just says to add them until it turns blue again, we’re not the far yet. I don’t know how many it will take.” He heard Dean behind him quietly humming the theme song to Jeopardy, which made him huff. “Please excuse me, Hael, I think our potion is nearly ready for the next step.” 

She smiled warmly at him and added, “There’s a Hogsmeade weekend coming up soon. Will you come with me? We could go to Madam Puddifoot’s.” 

Madam Puddifoot’s was a nauseatingly pink tea shop, which Castiel usually avoided at all costs. It was a spot for couples, mostly, which him and Hael decidedly were  _ not.  _ “I’m sorry, Hael. I already made plans to go to Hogsmeade with Newt. Maybe the next weekend we’re allowed to attend, we can plan something.” He turned away from her then, flicking his eyes to Dean just long enough to see the curious expression on his face. He heard Hael sigh behind him, and then he turned his attention back to the potion. It was indeed yellow, which meant it was time for him to find out the answer to Hael’s original question. He slowly added porcupine quills until the mixture turned back to blue once more. He nodded, satisfied with their progress. He glanced over the page in the book, and then looked at Dean. “It needs to simmer again until it’s purple this time, and then we can add the castor beans.”

Dean was smiling at Castiel. It wasn’t a full smile, by anyone’s calculation, but it was the first time that Dean had done anything but glare at him. “Whatever you say, Cass. You’re the potion master here, remember? I’m just gonna sit here and look pretty.” Dean paused momentarily before leaning to the side to look at Hael. “Speaking of pretty, what’s going on with you two? She’s hot, Cass, you shoulda said yes.” 

Castiel fixed his eyes on Dean, temporarily forgetting the potion. “I don’t think that’s any of your business, Winchester. And for the last time, my name is Castiel.” He turned back to the potion and stared at it, willing it to turn purple faster. It would have irritated him less if Dean was being his normal, abrasive self. This shift in attitude wasn’t something he was prepared for, and to be honest, he was looking forward to the back and forth banter they usually shared. It would have been a nice break from the constant, silent stares he got from the Hufflepuffs and Hael’s unending advances. 

Dean peeked over the side of the cauldron and looked up at Cass with his annoyingly green eyes. “Looks pretty purple to me, don’t you think?” 

Castiel realized he hadn’t been paying attention, so he blinked a couple of times and then added exactly 7 castor beans. He sighed when he realized it needed to simmer again, and he sat down this time. “Why are you here?”

Dean squinted. “Well, you see, Cass… when mommies and daddies love each other… “

Castiel held up a hand and interrupted quickly, turning his attention back to the potion. “Yes, Dean, I’m well aware of how babies are made. I meant why were you sitting next to me instead of Lisa Braeden? You could have been working with her instead.” 

He felt Dean’s eyes burning holes into the side of his head, and once again was on the receiving end of Dean’s best impression of him. “I don’t think that’s any of your business, Novak.” Castiel grimaced, and added more shrivelfigs to the potion once it was an acceptable shade of brown. This addition caused the potion to turn an obnoxious shade of pink, and he was reminded of Hael’s proposition. He chanced a glance at Dean, who was no longer smiling. His jaw was clenched and he was pointedly looking away. Castiel softened a little. “I’m sorry, Dean, I didn’t mean to pry. I was curious, you usually make it a point to avoid me.” 

Dean’s voice came out harsh, and Castiel flinched from it. “Yeah, guess I’ll have to learn to do a better job of that, won’t I?” 

It was silent between them as Castiel finished the potion: simmer until it’s orange, then add wormwood until it turns the colour of sunshine. He was pretty sure he was there, but wanted to get someone else’s opinion. “Does this look like sunshine to you?” Dean didn’t even look at the potion, he just grunted, which Castiel accepted as the only answer he was going to get. 

Dean tapped the bottom of the cauldron with his wand and the flame extinguished. “Good work, Castiel. Let’s hope it doesn’t kill me when I drink it.” Dean gathered some into a vial and raised his eyebrows at it. “Bottoms up.” He downed the potion before Castiel could object. 

“Well? Do you feel… euphoric?” He watched Dean intently, knowing that there were a couple of times he wasn’t paying full attention and he very well could have made a mistake. 

Dean’s face lit up in the biggest grin Castiel had ever seen on anyone. It was infectious, and he found himself wondering why Dean didn’t smile like that more often. He smiled himself, and decided to test the waters. “You know, Dean, you’re much more pleasant like this. Perhaps you should make this elixir part of your usual diet.” 

Dean laughed now, and it was loud and breathy and  _ pure.  _ Castiel knew the potion must have worked as intended, because the sound coming out of Dean held none of it’s usual hardness or mockery. He quickly filled a vial of his own and drank it. 

It took a few moments for the effects to kick in, but when they did… he suddenly and completely understood how Dean felt. It was like walking on clouds while surrounded by puppies. It was joy; pure, unfiltered bliss. He was positive that he’d never felt anything like it in his entire life. He looked at Dean again and noticed how freckles peppered his face and nose, and he reached out a hand to touch them. Dean was still grinning and didn’t make a move to stop him, so his thumb brushed over Dean’s cheek, just under his eye. 

Dean seemed to finally notice what was happening, and he pulled back slightly with his eyebrows pinched. “Stoppit.” 

Cass looked at his hand, then to Deans face, then back to his hand. He pulled his hand back slowly, frowning. “My apologies. I didn’t- I didn’t intend on that happening.”

Dean looked at Cass for a moment and then said, “Do it again.” 

He squinted at him, tilting his head. “Sorry?”

Dean blinked as he started to snap out of it, then shook his head and turned back to the potion. “Huh. Guess you did an alright job, Novak. Maybe I’ll actually pass for once.” 

“Right, uh- we’ll pass, I’m sure of it,” Castiel paused for a moment, before speaking again, “so, now what?”

Professor Crowley made his way over to the two and peered over the potion. “Let me guess, giraffe over here did all the work?” He jerked his head at Castiel, and Dean shrugged in response. 

Cass looked to Dean, and then back to Professor Crowley. “No, we shared the work, actually. Dean knows what he’s doing.”

Dean grinned at Crowley, still under some lingering effects of the potion. “I did all the stirring.” 

Professor Crowley looked at Dean with a condescending expression. “This elixir needs stirred only once, you’re telling me that’s all you did?” 

Dean kept grinning, and nodded. “Yep, but I did a damn good job stirring it, didn’t I Cass? Stirred it till it was bluer than his eyes, Professor.” 

Cass did his best to keep his blushing to a minimum as he nodded. “He did, yes. He was a very enthusiastic… stirrer.”

Now Crowley eyed Cass with the same condescending expression he used on Dean. “Listen, I don’t need to know what Mr. Winchester does or does not do enthusiastically. It seems as though your potion was effective, though, so bully for you.” He pulls out a vial and takes a sample. “Clean this mess up and be on your way.” He took the vial and disappeared into his office.

Dean looked at Cass and laughed again. “Enthusiastic stirrer?” 

He shrugged and looked away because it was the only thing he could think of at that point. “Yes, an enthusiastic stirrer. I could’ve told him all you did was stir, and then he would’ve failed you. So, you’re welcome.” He began tidying up, ignoring how terrible at talking to Dean he was.

Dean shook his head with a quiet laugh, and the effects must have been wearing off rapidly, because his smile was fading. He glanced over at Lisa and the smile disappeared altogether. “Yeah, thanks Cass--  _ tiel.  _ Castiel. Do you think you can handle cleanin’ the rest of this up? I got somewhere I need to be.” Dean pointed his wand at the contents of the cauldron and muttered, “ _ Evanesco,”  _ and the rest of the potion disappeared. 

Cass frowned at Dean’s sudden shift in mood, but nodded once. “Yes, Dean, I can handle it.” He continued to move things, picking up the now clean cauldron. “I suppose I’ll see you around.”

Dean nodded absentmindedly while he put his things back in his bag. “Yeah, whatever man. Maybe I’ll come look for you in Madam Puddifoot’s.” Those last words were laced with sarcasm, and Dean quickly made his way out of the dungeon. 

Cass’ frown deepened as he continued to clean, looking back at Lisa. He raised his eyebrow, and then turned once everything was clean, leaving. 

 

_ Dean _

 

Dean had absolutely zero intention of going to find Castiel Novak  _ anywhere  _ in Hogsmeade, let alone that stupid tea shop so he could watch him make out with that girl from Potions. Yet as he and Sirius made their way out of Zonko’s Joke Shop in Hogsmeade that weekend, he couldn’t help searching the crowd… just in case. 

Sirius elbowed Dean. “If you’re looking for Lisa, she stayed behind. Are you two ever going to kiss and make up or am I going to have to watch you brood for the rest of the entire year?”

Dean scoffed and tried to brush it off. “It’s over, Sirius, you know that already. Let it go, alright? Be like Elsa.” 

“Elsa?” He tilted his head as they walked. “Right… she’s that girl from Charms.” He nodded. 

“Girl from --” Dean stopped and looked at him. “No, you idiot, she’s that ice queen from Frozen. Watch a movie once in awhile, would ya? Drives me nuts having to explain shit to you every twelve seconds.” 

Sirius rolled his eyes, crossing his arms almost defensively as they walked. “Where to now?”

Taking a look at the shops around them, Dean realized it was cold and he was hungry. “How bout the Three Broomsticks? Butterbeer sounds pretty damn good right about now.” 

Sirius grinned, nodding. “I’ll never say no to butterbeer.”

“Awesome.” He led Sirius inside the Three Broomsticks, shuddering a little at the sudden warmth. He scanned the room and spotted Finnick and James at a table near the corner. He nudged Sirius to get his attention and walked towards the booth with his hands in his pockets. He slid into the seat next to James, facing the rest of the pub. “You guys good?” 

Finnick grinned, looking over at him. “Always good, Winchester. You?”

“Never better, ya smarmy dick.” Dean looked over at James and nodded to him, just as a tiny little redheaded witch came over with four tall glasses of butterbeer and set them on the table. 

“Thanks, Madam MacLeod,” James quickly took his, reaching over Dean in the process. 

Sirius slid into a seat at some point, looking around the bar. He noted James grabbing his quickly and raised his eyebrows. “Where’s the fire?”

James didn’t look up as he drank deeply, then set his glass down. “If you’re experiencing a burning sensation, you should probably go see the nurse.” 

Dean normally would have laughed at the joke, but he was lost in thought, spinning his glass in circles on the table.

Finnick nudged his leg under the table, his eyebrows raised. “You sure you’re okay, man?”

“Huh?” Dean looked over at him and shrugged, the corners of his lips turning down quickly. “Yeah, man, I’m good. Just been a long year so far, you know? I’m ready for Quidditch.” 

Sirius huffed, rolling his neck. “The year isn’t even half over yet.”

“Tell me about it,” James said. “I don’t know how many more of those Dark Arts lessons I can take before I find a way to permanently incapacitate Professor Crane.” 

Madam MacLeod returned, looking to the others. “Anything to eat?” 

Dean didn’t have a lot of money on him, so he just shook his head. He’d grab something once he was back at the castle. “No thanks, but could I get a refill?” He drained his butterbeer and set the empty glass in front of her. “Please?” 

She nodded and disappeared, as Sirius stretched his arms out. “Does anyone  _ actually _ enjoy Hogsmeade?”

Dean frowned. “I love it here, we don’t have to wear those dumbass robes, and the shops here are way better than the ones in Diagon Alley. Can’t complain about getting outta the castle for a few hours, either.” 

James nodded. “That’s true, but scoot, I need to head back. I’m supposed to meet Lily in the Library in an hour and I need to grab something first.” Dean moved out of the way, and James slid out of the booth and nodded to the others. “See you guys in the common room later?”

Finnick and Sirius both nodded giving a small wave. “See ya.” James waved to a couple of kids in the booth next to theirs and then left the Three Broomsticks. 

Dean stayed standing. “You guys gonna be okay? I was gonna go check out Honeydukes.” 

Finnick nodded, his eyebrows furrowing. “Yeah, Winchester, we’ll be fine. You want company?”

Dean shook his head, honestly having no intention on going to Honeydukes whatsoever. “Nah, like James said… I’ll catch you guys back in the common room later.” He forgot about his butterbeer refill as he headed out the door, heading to the edge of town. He had his hands in his pockets again and was huddled against the chill in the air. 

It didn’t take him long to reach his destination. The Shrieking Shack was basically just an old abandoned building, but nobody came up here anymore, which suited Dean’s needs. It wasn’t that he was sad that him and Lisa broke up; it had become pretty clear to Dean that it was necessary, but he missed her all the same. And he still couldn’t get past what he witnessed at the Choosing. He spent more time than he cared to admit thinking about those kids and what they must be going through right now. He wondered how many of them -if any - were already dead. He knew from past years that they’d receive an update every couple of months, but that was still a long time to wait. He simply wanted some time to himself, and the Shrieking Shack was the best place in all of Hogsmeade to get some. He couldn’t get  _ into  _ the building, of course, it had been magically sealed and none of the unlocking spells he had tried had actually worked, so he settled for sitting down next to the building and leaning against it. He leaned his head against the wall and closed his eyes, thankful that no one was around to ask him questions he no longer had answers to.

 

_ Castiel  _

 

Cass held the door open for Hael as they leave Madam Puddifoot’s, shivering when the cold air hit them. 

“Thank you, Castiel,” she smiled, zipping up her coat as they walked. 

He nodded and looked around, scanning the shop signs. “Anywhere in particular that you’d like to go?”  
She shook her head, smiling up at him. “No. I chose Puddifoot’s, you can choose where we go next, but can this be our last stop? I’m exhausted.”  
“How about Honeydukes? We can grab some candy and then you can head back,” he suggested, walking towards the candy store.  
She nodded in agreement, but frowned. “You’re not going to come back to Hogwarts with me?”

He shook his head. “No, we only get to leave that dreaded castle for so long at a time and I want to enjoy all of the time I’m given. You can head back without me.”

She sighed as they reached the store front, Castiel opening the door for her. “But I’ll miss you.” He cringed, but suddenly there’s a cheerful voice that interrupts their conversation and Castiel is pretty sure he’s never been more grateful.  

Charlie Bradbury grinned, her arms full of candy. “Sup bitches?!”

“Charlie!” Castiel smiled, making his way over to her instantly. “You’ve got your arms full, there.”

She nodded. “Yes, help would be wonderful.” She pushed some chocolate frogs and jelly slugs into his arms and grinned. “Thanks, Novak.”

He hadn’t realized he signed up to be her basket, but he nodded once anyways. “Always welcome, Charlie.”

She grinned and picked up some more stuff as they walked over to pay for it all. Hael trailed behind, not picking anything up, just looking. Once they reached the counter, Castiel dropped all the stuff. “I’ll need bags, please,” Charlie smiled, pulling out her money.

Castiel became distracted when the bell at the front door rang and he turned to see who entered. He raised his eyebrows when he saw Finnick Odair enter, seeming as if he was looking for something.

When Finnick noticed Castiel, he shouted, “Hey, Novak! You seen Winchester?” 

Castiel rolled his eyes. “I haven’t, no. Why do you ask?”

“He took off alone and said he was coming in here, but the bastard didn’t pay for his butterbeer.” He grinned, looking around again. “Guess he must’ve went somewhere else.” 

Castiel frowned slightly, shaking his head. “I haven’t seen him, sorry. Perhaps he went back to Hogwarts.”

Finnick mumbles something about being “good for nothing”, before he turned and left the shop.

“Oh, okay. Bye Finnick!” Charlie called after him, her eyes bright. “He’s so dreamy, isn’t he?”  
“You have a crush on Odair?” Castiel asked, smirking as he turned back to her. 

Charlie grabbed her bag and scoffed, brushing past him. “Don’t pretend you don’t Novak. Straight or not,  _ everyone _ has a crush on Finnick.”

Castiel cleared his throat, shaking his head. “No, I uh- I can’t say I do.”

Hael shook her head. “Yeah, me neither. There are _much_ prettier boys to be crushing on.” She shifted her eyes to Castiel, but he completely avoided her gaze.  
“I’m going to head back, I’ll see you guys later,” he spoke quietly. He reached into Charlie’s bag and grabbed a chocolate frog, before taking off, heading slowly back to Hogwarts.

 

_ Dean _

 

Dean stayed where he was for awhile, his back pressed up against the wall of the Shrieking Shack. He opened his eyes and noticed it was starting to get dark. Deciding that he better get back before the Death Eaters come for him, he pushed himself up and wiped off his jeans. He started the trip back to Hogwarts, noticing for the first time how many of the shops in Hogsmeade had been closed and boarded up. He assumed that was Voldemort’s doing. When he took over, many of the wealthier witches and wizards packed up their shops and went elsewhere. Now almost an entire section of Hogsmeade was cordoned off. 

He passed through that section and walked past the Three Broomsticks on his way back up to the castle. It wasn’t a short trip and it was getting darker by the minute, so he eventually took off at a jog. As he got closer to the castle he slowed again, and began digging through his bag to check out the things he got from Zonko’s. He was rather looking forward to setting off a dungbomb somewhere in Finnick’s vicinity, but he was starting to think he’d forgotten to get one. He kept walking and kept digging, his face almost buried in the bag. As usual, he wasn’t paying attention to where he was heading, and he ran smack into Castiel Novak for the third time this year. 

He dropped the bag he was holding, looking up. “Cass- _ tiel.”  _ He bent over to pick up the things that spilled from his bag. “We gotta stop meeting like this.”

Castiel blinked, bending down to help Dean pick up his stuff. “I’m sorry, I didn’t see you. Are you okay?”

Dean frowned, taking the things that Cass picked up and putting them back in the bag. “What, you’re not blamin’ me this time? I thought it was  _ always  _ my fault when we bumped into each other.”

He nodded. “It usually is, but this time I’ll take the blame.” 

Dean shrugged, not making eye contact. “I had my face buried in a bag, it ain’t like I was paying attention either. It’s fine, Castiel.” He shifted his grip on his bag and started walking again. 

Castiel kinda speedwalks to keep up with him. “So uh, what shops did you visit?”

Dean decided to keep up with the same lie he told everyone else, not knowing that anyone went looking for him. “Uhh Zonko’s, the Three Broomsticks and Honeydukes. You?” 

He raised his eyebrows, ignoring his question and asking one of his own. “What time were you at Honeydukes?”

“Uhh, right before I left to come back to the castle, why?” There was definite confusion in Dean’s voice, both from not knowing if he gave the right answer and from wondering why Castiel even cared.

Dean apparently  _ didn’t _ give the right answer, which caused Cass to frown. “I was there too, I didn’t see you. Finnick came looking for you as well.”

He stopped, licking his lip as he tried to think. “Does it really matter where I was? Where were  _ you  _ the whole day?” 

Castiel stopped as well. “I was at Madam Puddifoot’s and then we went to Honeydukes. That’s all. It was just a question, Dean, no need to get so defensive.” He turned and continued walking, crossing his arms. 

Dean muttered, “right, the porcupine girl.” He started walking again as well, but stayed a few paces behind Cass. 

Cass rolled his eyes, pulling his wand out of his pocket. He wasn’t sure why, he just felt a lot better holding it. “The tea was great, thank you.”

“No offense, but I don’t care how your  _ date _ was.” Dean noticed Castiel pull his wand out,

but made no move to do the same. 

“It wasn’t a date,” he huffed. “A guy and a girl can go out for tea without it being a date.”

“Not when it’s a girl like her, you can’t.” Dean wasn’t sure why he was even arguing the point, but he was arguing it nonetheless. He slowed his pace even more and looked up, the sky now almost completely dark. “Getting back into the castle is gonna be a bitch, how’d we end up out here so late? I thought I left early enough.” 

“We’re never going to make it back if you keep slowing down and stopping.” He paused, turning to look back at him. “And why do you care anyways? Even if it was a date, which it wasn’t, but if it was, why would you care?”

“I don’t. And if you’re so worried about bein’ late, go on ahead. No one asked you to slow down with me.” Dean stopped entirely, his face turned up towards the sky. 

Castiel sighed, walking back towards Dean. “What’s wrong with you? Ever since Potions class the other day, you’ve been acting weird.”

“You barely know me, how the hell do you know what ‘weird’ is?” He dropped his eyes to the ground and started walking again, his hands in his pockets. 

“I was just asking, Dean.” He started walking again as well, spinning his wand in his hand. “I didn’t mean weird, I just meant… off.”

“Right.” Dean was silent for a minute as they walked, and then decided to just tell him the truth. “I sat next to you because Lisa and I broke up, alright? The seat next to you was the only empty one, that’s all.” 

He nodded as they walked, frowning a little bit. “I’m sorry to hear that. The seat beside me is yours, if you want it. No one ever sits there.”

“Don’t be sorry, turns out we weren’t really a good match. I might take you up on that offer, though I gotta apologize in advance cuz Potions really isn’t my best class.” Dean saw the castle up ahead and wondered if the main doors were even still open at this time of night.

Castiel shrugged a little bit. “That’s fine, Charms isn’t my best class. I’ll help you in Potions, you help me in Charms. Fair?”

He frowns as he considers this. “You sit pretty far from me in Charms, don’t you?”

Castiel tilted his head, shrugging. “I can always move seats, it’s not that big of a deal.”

“Right, well… I guess that’s a pretty fair trade then.” Dean remembered what Lisa told him, and stopped in front of the castle doors. “Hey, can I ask you somethin’ without you getting all offended?”

He raised his eyebrows, nodding. “Go for it.”

Dean took a deep breath. “In the first Dark Arts lesson of the year, you pulled some pretty serious magic out of your ass. A lot of the students thought that you…” he trailed off, searching for the right words and not finding them. 

He squinted, confusion in his words as he speaks, “That I what, Dean?”

Dean sighed heavily, frustrated because he shouldn’t have to be the one to ask questions like this. He barely knew the guy, and now he’s about to ask one of the worst questions you can ask someone. “Look, man, word traveled pretty fast about how good you were with the Imperius Curse, and how…  _ willingly  _ you used it. There somethin’ to that or were you just following orders?”

Castiel closed his eyes briefly. “No one else was willing to do it. I did the stupid spell, but I didn’t do anything bad to anyone. I stopped Lisa from killing her friend and I calmed everyone else down. I wouldn’t-,” he shook his head. “I didn’t hurt anyone.”

Dean nods, biting his lip and looking at the door. “Yeah, to be honest, that’s what I figured. You don’t strike me as a Death Eater. You’re an ass, sure, and sometimes a little conceited… but I had a feeling those stories were bullshit.” He reached forward and tried the door, relief flooding him when he found that it was open. He was eager to get inside after being out in the chilly October air all day, so he held the door open and waved Cass in. “C’mon, before we freeze to death out here.”

 

_ Castiel _

 

Castiel kept his eyes on Dean the entire time he was speaking, entering the castle after him. “Well, thank you for having some faith in me.”

“Yeah, I’ll deny it if you ever tell anybody.” He closed the door behind them and headed for the stairs, but stopped again, turning to him. “Can I ask you one more question?”

_ I didn’t realize we were playing twenty questions.  _ “Sure, Dean. What’s up?”

“At the Choosing… with Romilda Vane. Was that you?” Dean’s eyes weren’t accusatory at all, on the contrary; they looked almost hopeful. 

He closed his eyes. “Are you going to get me in shit?”

Dean frowned. “I didn’t know you were capable of swearing.” He shook his head. “Nevermind, I honestly didn’t expect you to answer anyway. I’d have done it myself, but my damn mind blanked and I couldn’t remember the counter-jinx.” 

“You were looking for  _ liberacorpus.”  _ He watched Dean face-palm, and then continued. “It was me, Dean. I did it and I-,” he opened his eyes and shook his head. “I don’t regret it. I’d do it again.” 

“It was bullshit what they did to her. Neville, too.” He shoved his hands in his pockets 

and looked down. “I’m sorry about your friend.” 

He tilted his head and watched Dean. “How did you know he was my friend?”

Dean kicked at the ground lightly, looking down. “Doesn’t really take a rocket scientist, you know? I saw you when he stood up, then I saw you try to say somethin’ to him afterwards.” 

He breathed out, tilting his head back and forth. “Yeah, I’m sorry too. You know, I wanted to say more. There was so much I wanted to say but the only thing I could manage was ‘good luck’. Good luck with what? There’s no winner, there’s no grand prize.”

“No, there’s not. There’s either death or a fate worse than death, if you ask me. But if you managed to get two words out, that’s better than what I did. All I could do was stare at them. It was…” He shook his head and kept his gaze lowered, before clearing his throat. “Anyway, I guess I’ll see you in Charms then. You playin’ Quidditch again this year?”

He hadn’t really thought about it, but he nods. “Yeah, I suppose so. Might be a nice distraction. Are you?”

He nods once. “Yeah, that’s about the only thing I’ve got to look forward to anymore.” Dean glanced at the staircase and then looked at Cass. “I’ll see you on the pitch before Charms, then. Our teams practice at the same time this year.” 

Castiel smiled slightly, nodding. “I’ll see you then.”

 

_Dean_

 

When Dean made it back to the common room, Finnick was waiting for him. Dean rolled his eyes; the warning from Castiel replaying in his mind. 

“Where were you?” Finnick’s tone wasn’t harsh, but it wasn’t entirely pleasant either. 

“Look, Finn, not that it’s any of your damn business, but I went for a walk. Ended up meetin’ up with some other people, okay? You guys aren’t my only friends.” 

Finnick didn’t look like he believed him, but he thankfully didn’t press him. Dean didn’t want to explain how he’d ended up out past dark with Castiel Novak.  _ Sure, the guy was nice enough tonight, but he’s still a tool. A tool that everyone else seems to think is a budding Death Eater.  _ But something about the look in Castiel’s eyes that night when they had talked about the Choosing made it pretty clear to Dean that Castiel wasn’t a Death Eater at all… he was just a boy doing his best to protect those around him. And Dean could understand that better than anyone, couldn’t he? 


	6. Pinball Wizard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time for Quidditch tryouts.

_ Dean _

The rest of October and the first part of November passed without much incident. True to their agreement, Dean had been helping Castiel with Charms lessons and Castiel had been attempting to teach Dean how to brew a decent potion. They didn’t talk much about themselves, which suited Dean just fine. They’d fallen into a comfortable pattern of silence and insults, with the occasional helpful hint thrown in. Thanks to Dean, Castiel could cast a shield charm so powerful it would knock everyone in the surrounding area to their feet. Dean’s potion-making skills hadn’t advanced quite as much, but that’s probably because he’d given Castiel absolutely nothing to work with. It was by far his worst course, and he had less than zero natural talent for it. But with Castiel’s insistent, whispered instructions, Dean had successfully brewed Hiccoughing Solution just the other day. It wouldn’t be enough to get him through his O.W.L. exams, but it was at least a start. 

It wasn’t awful, spending time with Castiel Novak. Not like he thought it would be. Cass had dragged Dean to the library a couple of times for some late night study sessions, but Dean hadn’t really done a whole lot of studying. He could now draw a map of Cass’s eyes, if that counted for anything. 

Dean had found out almost by accident that he was attracted to more than just women. He’d attended a sleepover just after he coming home from Hogwarts a couple of summers ago, and a very nervous Benny LaFitte had kissed him square on the mouth during a game of Spin the Bottle. While Dean had prepared himself to be grossed out, it never happened. He had watched Benny sit back down and let his mind wander to what it would be like to kiss him again, or to hold him. Dean never did find out, because somehow, his father found out about it before he could work up the courage to ask if Benny liked it too. Dean shuddered involuntarily at the memory of his dad’s disappointment and rage at the news that his son had allowed another boy to kiss him. He had hidden a lot of questionable bruises in his life, but those ones might have been the worst. To this day, Dean wasn’t sure if it was fear or respect that kept him from pursuing Benny, or any other guy after that… but the memory of that kiss stayed with him, more vivid than any he had of kissing girls. It was that same mix of fear and respect that would keep him from admitting to himself or anyone else just how captivating he found Castiel Novak’s eyes.

**\-------------------------**

The night of Quidditch tryouts, Dean was nervous. He wasn’t sure why; this would be his 4th year as one of the Gryffindor Beaters. He knew he wouldn’t even need to try out again, their captain Oliver Wood had assured him of that on more than one occasion. Dean was fair, however, and knew he’d never feel like he deserved to be on the team if he wasn’t the best at what he did every single year. So, for three years in a row, he had tried out for the Gryffindor Quidditch Team, and for three years, he and Sirius served as their Beaters. He didn’t really expect this year to be any different, but that didn’t stop the ball of nervous tension that wound its way into his stomach and settled there. 

He was sitting in the Great Hall, picking at the steak-and-kidney pie that the Hogwarts House Elves had served up for dinner. Sirius and Finnick were arguing over whether or not having the best broom on the market would really make a difference if the flyer was talented enough. Dean chimed in. “It makes a difference, but not enough of one to actually win games. Bottom line, is you could be riding a damn Firebolt, but if you don’t know how to use it, you’re just gonna embarrass yourself.” 

Finnick looked around Sirius and grinned at him. “Says the guy riding whatever he can get his hands on. What were you on last year, a Cleansweep Five?” 

Dean rolled his eyes. “It was a Seven, and you knew that cuz I out flew you on it at least a dozen times.” 

“Better just be happy your job relies more on strength than speed, eh?” Finnick was still grinning, and Dean knew he wasn’t serious. Finnick had taught Dean everything he knew about flying when he got to Hogwarts. Sure, he’d learned the basics in his first year flying lessons, but Finnick was something of a legend on a broom. He’d taught him more than one trick that he’d used in matches to great effect. 

“Yeah, yeah, let’s just hope you can take your eyes off your own reflection long enough to find the damn Snitch tonight.” Dean returned Finnick’s grin, and some of his nerves disappeared. If nothing else, in just a couple of hours he’d be on a broom, flying with his friends again. After the year they’ve had so far… he definitely needed it. 

**\-------------------------**

As Dean walked to the Quidditch Pitch alone that night, his mind wandered to the twelve tributes and the Mudblood Games. He wondered how many more of them had died, and how much longer it would take before one of them found the portal out. His mood progressively sank the closer he got to the pitch, and he chewed on his bottom lip. 

Sirius caught up with him about halfway there and immediately noticed his mood. “Lighten up, we’re about to be  _ flying  _ again! No sour faces in Quidditch.” Dean rolled his eyes at this, but Sirius continued. “Seriously, you fly like shit when you get all moody like this, Winchester. Who hurt you?” 

Dean stopped walking. “The next person that asks me that is gonna find out  _ why  _ I’m a damn Beater.” 

“Sounds abusive, Dean.” Sirius was smirking, but the comparison did nothing for Dean’s mood. “You should probably see a therapist.” 

They walked in silence the rest of the way to the Gryffindor changing rooms. Once inside, Dean swapped his school robes for his Quidditch ones, and immediately started to feel better. While Sirius changed and the rest of the Gryffindor team filed in, he walked out to the broomshed. Dean knew he’d never own a broom of his own, and he was mostly fine with that. The ones the school supplied were okay; they got him into the air and that’s what mattered. He eyed the Cleansweep Seven he rode last year and the Comet 260 next to it. To him, the Cleansweep was a better broom, so he opted for the Comet. Oliver already knew how well Dean could fly; he had nothing to prove on that front, so he figured he’d leave the Cleansweep to someone else that might need it. 

With the Comet 260 in tow, he made his way out onto the Quidditch Pitch. Oliver Wood was already standing in the middle of it and addressing a small crowd of students that Dean assumed were there to try out. 

Dean walked up just as Oliver was explaining the positions they had open. “We’re looking for two Chasers tonight, we lost one to the Choosing and another because he’s no longer at Hogwarts.”

“And a beater!” Dean added. “You guys will have to beat me out for it, but my position is technically open.” He looked around and cringed internally when he saw that Lisa showed up for tryouts.  _ Four full years, and she never showed a damn bit of interest in Quidditch. She didn’t even come to a single one of my matches, and now she wants to be on the team? Figures.  _ He recognized a couple other faces and he knew the rest by name. 

Oliver stood on his toes to peek over everyone’s heads. “The rest of the team is coming now, I’ll make the introductions before we start.”

Dean stepped back to make room as the rest of the team came up, brooms in hand. “I’m Oliver Wood, Keeper and Quidditch Captain.” Oliver pointed to Dean and Sirius. “This here is Dean Winchester and Sirius Black, Beaters and general arseholes. You’ll either learn to love them or you’ll wish you’d never met them, but don’t let that scare you. They’ll be your greatest defense if you’re chosen as a Chaser.” Dean stepped back a little further to make room for Finnick as he pushed his way to the front. Oliver continued, “this, as I’m sure you’re all  _ very  _ aware, is Finnick Odair. --  Yes, yes, that rhymed, I know.” A couple of the younger kids had sniggered at him, but  Oliver kept going. “He’s our Seeker, and arguably the best one I’ve ever seen. We’ve never lost a match with him Seeking for us. Quidditch Cup winners four years running now… would have been five, but I couldn’t get Professor Mills to sign off on a first year playing.” Oliver seemed to get lost in an unpleasant memory of trying to get the tough-as-nails Professor to budge. Dean cleared his throat to bring Oliver back to reality. “Right, and lastly… your fellow Chaser, Jo Harvelle. She’s a bit of a Quaffle-hog but she rarely misses and she’s quick, I’ve never seen someone dodge bludgers like she can. You will learn a lot from her, should we choose to make you part of our team.” 

Dean’s eyes swept over everyone again, and he locked eyes with Lisa. He was aware that Oliver was talking about him again but made no move to acknowledge it. “Now,” Oliver was saying, “I know Winchester told you that his Beater spot is up for grabs - I’m going to tell you the same thing. I want every person on this team to feel like they deserve to be here, and it would seem that he won’t settle for being anything but the best Beater Gryffindor has to offer. I expect all of you to have the same mindset as we begin. Other teams, such as the Hufflepuffs, might not take this seriously... but we do.” 

Dean yawned, Oliver had a tendency to drift off topic, and his pep talks sometimes went on for so long that they were late to matches. Oliver must have heard the yawn, because he cut himself off in the middle of his next sentence and instructed everyone to mount their brooms. 

This definitely woke Dean up. He straddled the broom and felt the smooth lines of the handle under his fingers. He knew the next part would be Chaser tryouts, so he didn’t wait for further instructions. He kicked off from the ground, the bitter November wind whipping at his face. He  _ loved  _ it. He loved the chill in the air, how light he felt. He loved the feeling of soaring high and far away from any problems he might have left on the ground. He loved the rush he felt when he waited until the last possible second before pulling out of a dive. Dean  _ loved  _ flying. It was such a stark contrast to how he felt about muggle airplanes that it almost made him laugh. 

He flew several loops around the Quidditch Pitch as the would-be Chasers started warming up. He could see them close to the ground, passing the Quaffle back and forth to each other to get a feel for it. When Lisa made a particularly graceful catch off of a horrible throw, his stomach lurched. He hoped that Oliver understood enough about what had happened between him and Lisa not to let her on the team, but he knew better. Oliver wasn’t kidding when he said he expected them to want to be the best, because Oliver himself expected that out of each and every member of his team. 

He watched as a couple of the other students took some practice shots at the unguarded goal and then looped around to find Sirius. 

He pulled his broom up next to his best friend’s. “You think they’re ready?” 

Sirius grinned. “I honestly don’t care if they’re ready or not. Would you care to do the honours this year?” 

Dean nodded and flew down to the box where they kept the bludgers. They were rattling around in their restraints, aching to be set free. Dean tossed Sirius’s bat up into the air just as he whooshed past and grabbed it, becoming nothing but a dark streak as he flew to the other side of the pitch. 

He grabbed his own bat, and then one after another, he released the two Bludgers. They whirred as they sped off after Sirius. Dean kicked off from the ground again and flew over to the hoops, his bat raised. He let out a slow breath and listened for the frantic sounds of a bludger. It didn’t take long before he saw one careening toward the back of Jo Harvelle’s head. He intercepted it easily, knocking it away from her. 

Jo turned and smiled at him. “Thanks!” She looked away from him quickly as Lisa yelled her name, and Jo caught the Quaffle that was hurled at her. She ducked around one of the younger kids that seemed to be frozen in place on his broom, and she scored. Dean cheered, even though the goal was unguarded and this was tryouts. He had almost forgotten how good Jo really was. 

After everyone took their turns dodging the bludgers Dean and Sirius hurled at them and scoring a handful of times a piece, Oliver blew his whistle and signaled everyone back to the ground. 

Dean landed reluctantly, he always hated dismounting because it meant he wouldn’t get to fly anymore. He smiled reassuringly at a 3rd year girl named Anael, who really hadn’t done well at all. The clear frontrunners, to Dean’s eye, anyway, were a girl named Ginny Weasley, and to his dismay - Lisa. He turned to Oliver. “My turn yet?” 

“Yes, yes, it’s your turn.” Oliver faced a couple of burly-looking sixth years. “Your goal is simple. Use the bats in your hand to hit the bludgers through the hoops as many times as you can in a 5 minute span. The person that gets the most through, is our new Beater. 

Dean relaxed. His time flying around during the Chaser tryouts had completely dissipated any lingering bad feelings he may have had. If he only had to compete against two others, he wasn’t worried about it. They were big, sure, but being quick and agile was just as important to being a Beater. Nothing about either one of the newcomers suggested they were quick  _ or  _ agile. 

Jo had taken the top 3 Chasers over to the other set of hoops for additional trials, and he thought he caught sight of the Golden Snitch hovering near where the commentators sat. He looked around at eye level for Finnick, but didn’t see him. 

Sure enough, when Dean turned his eyes back to the sky, Finnick was a blur of red and gold. He watched him chase the Snitch for a few moments, distracting himself from the first Beater’s tryout. 

When Brutus landed, Oliver announced that he’d hit only a measly three bludgers through the hoops. Dean’s personal record was 18, and he relaxed even further. He didn’t catch the other boy’s name as Oliver sent him up to take his turn, but he paid attention this time. 

_ One, two, three… seven, eight… damn, this kid’s good.  _ Dean took off into the air, now too nervous to keep his feet on the ground. He hovered close to the others, making sure to stay out of the way. When Oliver blew the whistle, this mysterious Gryffindor had hit a whopping thirteen bludgers through their targets. 

Now Dean had reason to be worried. Sure, his best run obliterated that number, but Dean had definitely  _ not  _ been at his best for the last few months. He landed on the ground in front of Oliver, eager to get this over with one way or another. “My turn?” 

Oliver nodded. “If you’re sure, then yes.”

Dean didn’t want to have this argument again, so he kicked off and flew up to the hoops. He adjusted the grip on his bat and let out a long breath, trying to block all of the other sounds of the pitch out of his mind. He heard the whizzing of a bludger, but waited. When Oliver blew his whistle to signal the start of his five minutes, Dean swung. He connected with the bludger and it hit it’s target. Dean hadn’t waited, of course, bludgers were tricky and liked to change paths without much notice. The second he had hit it, he had raced after it. He glued his eyes to it and attempted to anticipate its movements. 

The bludger curved left, but Dean was ready. Over and over again, he hit the bludger towards the hoops. He stopped counting after he’d successfully launched the 6th one through the far right hoop. He was either going to do better than the mammoth on the ground, or he wasn’t. But here and now? This was freedom. This was purpose. Hit the bludger, aim true. Chase it. Connect again. And again, and again. Nothing but wind and the repeated release of stress with each time he swung his bat. For the first time in months, he wasn’t thinking about the Choosing, or the Games, or Voldemort. He wasn’t thinking about Romilda Vane’s embarrassment, or Neville Longbottom’s terror. He wasn’t thinking about his father, or how much he missed his mother. He wasn’t thinking about how scared he was for Sam, or about how quickly things with Lisa fell apart. And he  _ certainly  _ wasn’t thinking about the colour of Castiel Novak’s eyes. 

When Oliver blew the whistle again 5 minutes later, Dean was surprised. He looked around him and remembered where he was. He flew back to the ground, the nervous little knot coming back in full force. “How’d I do?” 

Oliver Wood was staring at him like he had a pair of green antennae coming out of his head. “Yo, Earth to Oliver. Can you read me, Captain?” Dean waved his hand in front of Oliver’s face. 

“22, Dean. You did it  _ twenty-two times.”  _ Dean grinned at the count. “Broke my own record then! Guess I’m still the best.” He turned to the two that tried out and clapped Brutus on the shoulder. “Sorry, fellas. Better luck next year.” 

The one whose name Dean didn’t get spoke up. “Oy, how come you tried out but the other one didn’t? Bet I coulda beaten him. I deserve a spot on this bloody team, same as you.” 

“No, that ain’t how it works. I volunteered to give up my spot if someone could prove they were better than me. Neither of you managed to do that, so I’m still in. That sounds pretty fair to me.” Dean had been expecting some backlash when it came to Sirius not following the same code, and he had been ready for it. 

As if he knew he was being talked about, Sirius flew down and landed. “Did you win?” Dean nodded, and the beefy kid spoke up again, this time directed at Sirius. 

“You and me, up there, now.” He didn’t wait for Sirius to respond, he just took off into the air with his bat. 

Sirius shook his head and turned away from him. “There’s always one, you know? I expect that kind of poor sportsmanship out of the Slytherins, but I thought we were better than that. Hopefully Oliver’s got what he needs from those Chasers so we can call it a night, I’m ready to be --” His words were cut off as Dean lurched forward and tackled him to the ground, taking the brunt of the hit from the bludger that had been  _ thwacked  _ at them. Pain seared through Dean’s elbow and his vision spotted as he rolled off of Sirius. 

Sirius stood quickly, his eyes wide. “OY! What kind of dirty, underhanded, piece of--” His words were cut off once more, this time by Finnick placing a hand over his mouth. From the ground, Dean had seen him land just moments after the bludger hit him. He let his head drop back to the grass as he held his very broken elbow. 

“Seriously, somebody get that guy outta here, would ya? I’ve only got one more good arm, I can’t keep jumpin’ in front of you idiots.” 

Finnick, apparently satisfied that Sirius wasn’t going to say anything else, released Sirius and helped Dean to his feet. “Come on, you need to go to the Hospital Wing. 

Dean groaned. “First Quidditch injury of the year, and I was already on the damn ground when it happened. That’s just peachy.” 

He heard Oliver Wood screaming at Beef Boy as he let Finnick lead him out of the Quidditch Pitch and towards the Hospital Wing. “I hope Wood kicks his ass.” 

**\------------------------**

A couple of hours later, he was back in the Gryffindor Common Room, his elbow healed. He sat with Sam, Finnick, Sirius, Oliver, and Jo. Sam had made Sirius tell him the story of what happened eight times while Dean had been getting his broken elbow mended by magic. 

“It’s not a big deal. It was a bludger, not a friggen bullet.” He rubbed the spot where it had hit him, and found himself thankful he was usually on the giving end of that. “Who made it, anyway?”

It was Jo who answered, her voice softer than usual. “You did, obviously. Ginny Weasley’s our new Chaser, and so is… so is Lisa Braeden.” Jo watched Dean as if she expected him to explode. 

Dean wasn’t sure he had it in him to be mad about it, or even apprehensive. He nodded. “She’s a good flier and her aim was spot on. We could use her.” He paused, running over the new team in his mind. “So it’s Wood, Odair, you, Lisa, Ginny, me and Sirius? That’s honestly not a half-bad lineup, we’ve got a decent shot at the Cup again this year.” 

Sam grinned broadly. “Of course you do, and I’m going to be your biggest supporter. Just wait until you see what I got for your first match.” 

 

_ Castiel _

 

Castiel made his way to the Quidditch pitch as he looked around. He noticed a few other Hufflepuffs he wasn’t really friends with, Johanna Mason, the captain, for example. Castiel joined the semi-circle that was formed, before there was someone clutching onto his hand. He looked down, before a smile spreads on his face. “Hey, Rue!”

Rue smiled bashfully, looking up at him. “Hi, Castiel.”  
“What’s going on? Are you going to try out for Quidditch too?” He asked her, letting go of her hand and messing up her hair.  
She huffed and fixed her hair, but nodded. “Yes! I’m going to make the team this time!”

He grinned at her enthusiasm and crouched down so he was at the same height as her. “You think so?”  
“I know so, Castiel,” she stated, matter-of-factly.

“Well, I wish you the best of luck, then. How are your classes?” He stood back up.

“They’re hard. Care of Magical Creatures and Herbology suck,” she frowned, looking down at the ground.  
“Hey,” he tilted her chin up. “I can help you, if you’d like. I know a thing or two about magical creatures and plants.”

She cracked a small smile. “Thank you.”

He grinned at her and nodded, just as Johanna Mason stepped forward. “Alright, listen up, Hufflepuffs. We’ve got a lot of spaces to fill this year. We need our keeper, two chasers, a beater and our seeker. Everyone knows how Quidditch works, yeah?” Everyone nods in agreement, but Johanna still felt the need to explain.

After her explanation, she nodded. “Good, I’m glad everyone understands. Grab the equipment for the spot you want to try out for, and get out there.”

Castiel made his way over and hopped onto one of the brooms, holding the broom steady for Rue. “Hop on.”

She rolled her eyes and hopped on the broom next to him. “I know how to get on a broom, Castiel.”

Castiel watched her fly off, because this time last year she definitely could not. He chuckled quietly to himself, watching her fly around. He pulled his eyes from Rue, notching Raphael. He was flying around, holding a bat.  _ Of course he’d be trying out for beater. Suits him just right.  _ He recognized a few other people; Nymphadora Tonks, Annie Cresta and Charlie Bradbury. He smiled as he maneuvered his broom to the three rings, parking himself in front of it.

“Is everyone ready?!” Johanna shouted as she began to unlock the bludgers from their case. “3… 2… 1…, go!” 

Cass kept his eyes on the bludgers as they immediately took off, both headed for Annie. Cass kept himself still in front of the rings, watching as Charlie flew around aimlessly, looking for the golden snitch. “Castiel!”

He turned in time to catch the Quaffle, throwing it to Rue who took of with it. He watched her with a grin, before he noticed who was the other keeper.  _ Hael Vetter? She’s never once shown interest in Quidditch.  _ His thoughts were interrupted by cheering, as Rue flew around in circles on her broom, smiling wide. “I did it! I scored!”

Castiel laughed, watching her. “You did, Rue. Good work.” Rue had always been special to Castiel. Since her first day at Hogwarts when he was a third year and she was a first, she took a liking to him. Maybe it was because he offered her the seat beside him when she was sorted into Hufflepuff, but either way, he became something of a protector to her. From what he was told, she didn’t have the easiest life before Hogwarts, both of her parents were dead and she was living with her aunt and uncle who barely acknowledged her. There were rumours they kept her in the cabinet under the stairs. She’d been teased for her size, she was much smaller than many of the other Hufflepuffs, but Castiel made sure to put an end to that.

Nymphadora caught the Quaffle in mid air and sped off towards the other set of rings. He watched as she faked to the left, but threw it right down the middle, successfully scoring and gaining ten points. He noticed the frown on Hael’s face, so he offered her a smile when they made eye contact. He wasn’t paying much attention and ended up letting a goal in, scored by Raphael. “Perhaps you should focus on the game and not your wannabe girlfriend, Novak.”

Castiel scoffed, watching as Raphael winked at him and then flew away. He rolled his eyes when Raphael avoided a bludger attack from Johanna and then successfully caught the Quaffle, throwing it to Annie this time. 

The mock Quidditch game went on for quite some time, before Charlie finally caught the golden snitch, causing Castiel’s team to win. “We did it!” 

Castiel grinned, as he flew towards the circle in the middle. He turned to see Rue on her way over, but she never quite made it because she was hit with a bludger in her side. She instantly broke down in tears when she fell off her broom and hit the ground. Castiel glares at the culprit, lowering his broom.  _ Raphael, why am I not surprised? _ He landed on the ground beside Rue, carefully removing her broom from underneath her. “Shh, shh, hey, you’re okay.”

“It hurts,” she sniffled, trying to sit up. “My arm and my leg, they’re broken.”

He scanned her injuries before he pulled out his wand. “Novak, is she okay? Does she need to go see Madam Harvelle?” Johanna called, lowering herself to the ground. Madam Harvelle was Jo Harvelle’s mom, and the matron of Hogwarts. She was a very competent nurse, having been in the position for at least a quarter of a century.

“No, I can do it,” he nodded. He touched Rue’s broken leg with his wand and spoke quietly, “ _ Ferula _ !” Instantly Rue’s leg became bandaged, forming a tight splint. He repeated his actions, watching as Rue’s arm became wrapped up tightly as well. “How’s that feel, Rue?”

She sniffled and nodded, sitting up. “I’m okay. Thank you, Castiel.”

She leaned into his side and Castiel smirked a little bit. “Hey, Rue, you wanna see something funny?”  
“Yes,” she nodded, as Castiel freed himself from his broom and stood up. He noticed Raphael walking away and called to him. 

“Hey, Raphael, wait!” Once Raphael turned, Castiel pointed his wand at him. “ _ Tarantallegra _ !” Instantly Raphael’s legs began to jerk around, looking as if he was dancing. Castiel laughed, turning back to Rue and the others who were laughing as well. 

“What the-! Castiel, knock it off!” Raphael yelled, continuing his dancing movements. “STOP!”

Castiel tilted his head with a grin, pointing his wand at him again. “ _ Herbifors! _ ” Through Raphael’s jerking dance moves, flowers started sprouting off of his body. 

“CASTIEL!” Raphael boomed, twirling in uncontrollable circles now. “I said knock it off!”

“Apologize to Rue,” Castiel stated simply, crossing his arms. 

“It wasn’t me!” Raphael exclaimed, his face turning red. 

“It was, I watched you do it,” Castiel stayed calm. “Apologize.”  
“Fuck, fine! Rue I’m-” Raphael’s voice is cut off by Professor Hanscum coming up behind him. 

“Good golly, what the heck is goin’ on here?!” Professor Hanscum exclaimed, putting a stop to Castiel’s charms on Raphael. Raphael stopped spinning as the flowers disappeared, but he leaned over and puked. “Castiel, care to explain?”  
Castiel looked at Raphael, then back to Rue, then to Professor Hanscum. “Raphael hit Rue with a bludger on purpose and she broke her arm and leg when she fell. I was just trying to cheer her up.”  
“At the expense of your peers? That’s not how us Hufflepuffs work, Castiel. Apologized to  Raphael immediately. Rue, dear, let’s go on down to Madam Harvelle, okay?”

Castiel waited until Rue and Professor Hanscum were gone, not having a single intention to apologize to Raphael. Raphael smirked, watching him. Castiel brushed by him without a word and headed inside to the Hufflepuff common room.

 

He’d only be in there a few moments by himself, before the rest of the Hufflepuffs who tried out for the Quidditch team arrived as well. He noticed Rue walking in and waved at her with a smile, as she made her way over and sat down beside him. “Hey, Castiel.”

He smiled at her. “Hey. How are you feeling?” 

“I’m okay,” she paused, looking down. “I’m sorry I got you in trouble.”

“It’s not your fault, Rue. He deserved it,” he grinned and leaned down, closer to her ear. “Besides, it was kinda fun anyways.”

“Alright, guys!” Johanna shouted to get everyone’s attention. She stood up on a chair so everyone could see her before she spoke again. “I’ve put together the team. Our three Chasers will be Nymphadora Tonks, Annie Cresta and Rue Marsh.”  
Rue jumped up and grinned. “I made the team! Castiel, I made the team!”

Castiel laughed, nodding. “You did, you deserve it, Rue. You played well.” After a few moments Rue calmed down and sat beside him again, still with a grin.

Even Johanna Mason couldn’t stop herself from smiling at Rue. “Now then, our two Beaters are obviously myself; Johanna Mason, and Raphael Helm. Our Seeker will be Charlie Bradbury, and our Keeper will be Castiel Novak. Any questions?” 

Castiel grinned, nudging Rue gently. “Hey, I made it too!”

She smiled and gave him a high-five, before Johanna spoke again. “Then I’m done here. Congratulations to everyone who made it and better luck next time to the ones who didn’t.” She hopped off the chair and left the common room.

“I believe you owe me an apology, Novak,” Raphael stated, approaching him with his arms crossed.

“I’m not apologizing to you, Helm. You’re the one who was an assbutt.” Castiel shook his head, annoyed all over again.

“It’s fine, Castiel. We all know you’re just bitter and irritable because you’ve never had sex. On second thought, have you ever even  _ kissed _ a girl?”

Castiel tensed, balling his fists at his sides. “Shut up, Helm. You don’t know what you’re talking about. Stop being a dick and just go.”

Raphael shook his head. “What, are you  _ gay _ or something?”

Castiel stood up abruptly, his fist connecting with Raphael’s nose. “I said  _ shut up _ .” He pushed Raphael back and out of the way as he left, headed to the boys dormitory.

\---------------------------

The next morning Castiel woke up in a piss-poor mood. He grumbled as he rolled out of bed and got dressed. If he could, he would’ve stayed in bed all day, but he was  _ starving _ . He tucked his wand into his robes and quickly fixed his hair before leaving his dorm, headed to the Great Hall for breakfast. A few Hufflepuffs tried to talk to him, but he simply held up a hand and kept walking. Raphael’s comment had really affected him, more than he was willing to admit. He sauntered into the Hall and sat down at the front table facing the hallway, waiting for his breakfast. It appeared in front of him and he immediately started to eat, finally beginning to feel a little bit better.

Until he saw Lisa Braeden and Dean Winchester walking together and-  _ were their arms linked? _ Not that it mattered, perhaps they worked out their issues. Castiel should be happy for them, but he wasn’t. At most, he was…  _ indifferent. _ He couldn’t help but eye Dean up and down, wishing for just a moment that he could have an  _ ounce _ of the confidence Dean had. He rolled his eyes when Lisa walked off and noticed Dean walking towards him. He took another mouthful of his breakfast, pretending not to notice him.

Dean sat down anyway, oblivious to the fact that Castiel was trying his best to pretend like he didn’t exist. “Hey, haven’t seen you in a while. How’d tryouts go?” 

He nodded once, swallowing his food before he answered. “Fine, how’d yours go?”

Dean grabbed a piece of bacon off of Castiel’s plate. “Pretty good, can’t really complain. Better outcome than I was expecting, honestly.” Dean glanced over his shoulder, chewing his stolen food.

Castiel very obviously cleared his throat. “What does that mean?”

Dean took another bite and shrugged. “Hope for the best, prepare for the worst, right?” 

He squinted and took a sip of his orange juice. “I guess.” 

Dean nodded, still chewing. “So uhh… where’s Hael? You two have been spendin’ a lot of time together, right?” 

Castiel narrowed his eyes. “We’re  _ friends,  _ and friends spend time together.”

“Yeah, but she’s into you, right? Practically everyone knows it.” 

Castiel groaned. “Yes, but why does that have to mean that  _ I  _ am into  _ her?  _ I’m not, I’m not into her, and I would prefer if everyone would quit suggesting that I am.” 

Dean fell silent, and then reached over and took another slice of bacon, biting it. It crumbled, some of it sticking to his chin, which he didn’t seem to notice. “So you a Keeper again, then?”

Grateful for the subject change, he couldn’t stop the small smile that formed on his face as he picked up his napkin and reached to wipe the bacon off. He stopped when he remembered Lisa. His smile turned into a neutral face as he shrugged. “I am, yes. You’re a beater, I assume?”

Dean furrowed his brow at the napkin in Castiel’s hand. “What, do I have somethin’ on my face?” He reached up, swiping his thumb across his chin, causing little bits of bacon to fall. 

“You did, you don’t anymore. I was going to give you this napkin, but you clearly you didn’t need it.” He wiped off his own hands. “Why not get your own breakfast?”

“Can’t stay, I told Lisa I’d….” Dean paused, looking like he doesn’t want to say what he was going to. “I told her I’d help her out with somethin’. She came in to grab some of those cinnamon rolls, and I saw you sittin’ here by yourself and thought I’d say hi.” 

_ Help her out with something.  _ He licked his lips, speaking nonchalantly. “What, uh, what does she need help with?”

The corners of Dean’s mouth turned down quickly, as if his face was shrugging. “I don’t know if she wants me broadcastin’ it around, you know? Just…” he seemed to choose his words carefully, “somethin’ that I’m in a unique position to help her out with.” 

Castiel couldn’t tell whether he was mad or upset. Probably both. He stands up quickly. “I’ve got to go, have fun with Lisa.” With that, he took off back to his dorm and changed right back into his pajamas, crawling back into bed. He’d get up for Charms class tomorrow. Maybe.

 

_ Dean _

Dean watched Castiel abruptly leave with a curious expression.  _ What the hell did I do this time?  _ He shook his head slightly, then grabbed the remainder of the bacon from Castiel’s plate and set off to find Lisa. He made his way to the Gryffindor Common Room and tried to remember the newest password to the portrait. “Uhh… Poughkeepsie?” The portrait swung open 

and Dean walked into the common room, finding Lisa in one of the chairs closest to the fireplace. “Hey, you ready for your Quidditch lesson?” 

She looked around quickly and then nodded. “Keep it down, Dean. It would be a little embarrassing if people found out I joined the team without even knowing how the game is played.” 

Dean smiled lightly and took a seat across from her. “It’s honestly not hard, I mean, you already have basic knowledge. You know the positions and all the balls, right?” When Lisa nodded, he continued. “So, your job is gonna be doing exactly what you did in tryouts. Get the Quaffle around the Keeper and through the hoop. That’s it, that’s all you gotta worry about. Me and Sirius will keep the bludgers away from you, and Finnick will handle the Snitch. Each time you put the Quaffle through a hoop, it’s 10 points. About the only other thing I honestly think you need to know is to pay attention to the scoreboard. If the other team is up by too many points, Finnick won’t be able to catch the Snitch yet or we’ll lose anyway. That means you and Ginny and Jo will need to work double time to put some points on the board.” 

Lisa seemed to absorb this information and then nodded. “That sounds easy enough, people act like it’s such a big deal. Like McClaggen, the guy that broke your elbow.” 

Dean rolled his eyes. “Lis, please let that go. I think you worried enough in the Great Hall this morning over a perfectly healed bone, we don’t need to go down that road again. Did you need anything else? I’m sure you’ve got other things to do, and I’ve got about 50 essays I need to write if I wanna have any hope of passing this year.” 

Lisa smiled awkwardly at him. “Thanks for being so cool about this, Dean. I was worried when I tried out that you were still angry with me, or that what happened between us was going to make things weird if I made the team.” 

He sighed, standing up. “Look, we weren’t a good match, it’s not a big deal. There’s no reason we can’t be friends, and certainly no reason we can’t be good teammates.” 

Some of the awkwardness faded from Lisa’s smile, replaced by genuine warmth. “Thanks, Dean.” 

Dean waved, walking back up to the boys dorms and pulling out his parchment and quill. He sat down and started working.

 

_ Castiel _

Castiel had finally reached his breaking point, with all of it. With his classmates constantly making fun of him for never having a girlfriend, with Hael’s  _ exhausting  _ advances, with the thought of Dean Winchester strutting around the castle holding Lisa Braeden on his arm like some sort of trophy now that they were back together...yes, Castiel was done with  _ all  _ of it. He paced the Hufflepuff common room that night after he helped Rue study for Herbology, trying to think of a way to tell people about who he really was without dealing with the onslaught of fun that would be had at his expense. He knew there were others like him around Hogwarts; just the other day he saw a Slytherin fifth year -- Jack, he thought was his name -- sneaking out of the broom cupboard on the first floor looking very much like he’d just spent hours playing Quidditch - hair tousled, robes askew, face flushed. Castiel hadn’t thought much of it until he saw another Slytherin boy follow Jack out of the room, looking much the same. Still, it  _ was  _ a broom closet… so perhaps it was Quidditch? It was the kiss they stole in the corridor that removed the doubt from Castiel’s mind. He didn’t know enough about them to tell if they were out-of-the-closet in the figurative sense as well as the literal, but if there were two, and  _ Slytherins  _ at that, surely there were more? Surely no one would judge him too harshly….

Hael walked into the common room, interrupting his thoughts. His insides twisted; he really wasn’t prepared to have to shoot her down again so soon. He smiled half-heartedly at her as she took a seat near where he was wearing lines into the floorboards.

“You could have just told me you liked guys, Castiel. I would have stopped bothering you 3 years ago.” There was no anger, malice, or even humor in Hael’s voice as she spoke the words that finally forced Castiel to stop pacing. She sounded… sincere.

His eyes widened almost painfully as he whirled around to face her. “What? I don’t -” He cut himself off when he saw her usually harsh features soften. Castiel crumpled in on himself slightly and said, with a level of quiet dejection he didn’t know how could muster, “How did you know? I’ve never told anyone. I’ve never even had a…” He flicked his eyes around the room, and was relieved to find that they were utterly alone. “You know what I mean. I’ve never had one.”

Hael smiled at him and nodded knowingly. “I can tell. If you had, you’d have figured out by now that there’s nothing to be ashamed of. As disappointed as I might be, the fact remains that you’re entitled to love whoever the hell you want to love, and at the end of the day… it’s no one’s business but your own.” 

He sighed, knowing she was right, but still… he couldn’t shake the feeling of terror he got every time he allowed himself to think about coming out. He shook his head, dropping his eyes to the floor and resuming his pacing. “You don’t understand, Hael. I’m respected… looked up to. You know what some of the others will do if they find out… especially Raphael and his goons.”

Hael scoffed, “Since when does the Great Castiel Novak care what Raphael thinks?” When Castiel didn’t immediately respond with anything other than a shamed look, she stood and walked over to him, taking his hands in hers. “Look, Castiel. If you’re honestly  _ that  _ worried about it, maybe I can help.”

Castiel eyed her skeptically, but didn’t pull his hands back. “How? And most importantly,  _ why?”  _ Hael just smiled mischievously and winked. “Do you know the empty classroom on the fourth floor, the one on the way to Charms?” When Castiel nodded, she continued, “meet me there tomorrow, about 15 minutes before our Charms lesson begins. I have a way to fix your problem”.

**\------------------------**

 

No matter how much he pestered her, Hael wouldn’t give him the details of her plan. She assured him it was safe and would do the trick, and eventually he had decided to leave it be and get some sleep.

He now found himself pacing outside of the empty classroom she had designated, intermittently checking his watch. He’d shown up 10 minutes earlier than she’d asked him to, but his Herbology lesson had ended early thanks to a nasty accident involving one of the Ravenclaw students and a Venomous Tentacula, so he had found himself with some unexpected free time.

When Hael finally showed up, Castiel had worked himself into a frenzy over what the plan might be, and what on earth it had to do with an empty classroom.  _ Was she going to try to do a spell to make me straight? Is there a book in there that explains how to navigate coming out as a gay half-blood in a world full of pureblood worshippers and wizards like Voldemort? _

As it turned out, her plan was much more… hands on. She led him into the room without so much as a wave in greeting to him, and immediately started messing up his hair and clothes. This alarmed Castiel more than anything, and he tried to shoo her away.

She dropped her arms and scowled at him. “I’m not going to hurt you, will you just stand still for a minute?”

Castiel huffed, but stood still, letting her do whatever she needed to. She tugged and unbuttoned and ruffled various bits of him for several minutes, and then began doing the same thing to herself. Castiel still had absolutely no idea what she was doing, but he’d already allowed it to go on this long, so he might as well see it through. When they both looked like they’d spent the night in a cave, she pulled him close to the door and pressed her ear against it, saying quietly, “Okay, the corridor should be filling up soon with students trying to get to Charms. When you start to hear footsteps, I want you to moan. Can you do that? Do you even know how to?”

Castiel had the good sense to look offended by that, but chose not to respond as such because he finally realized what she was doing. “You’re going to make it seem like you and I…” Hael simply nodded, shushing him so she could listen better. Soon enough, he heard footsteps rounding the corner down the hall. He panicked, and his moan came out more like the sound a dying bird would make. Hael looked mildy off-put, but joined in with one of her own. Louder, and decidedly…  _ hotter.  _ Getting into it now, imagining the look on Raphael’s face when it was revealed that Castiel was the one in here with Hael, Castiel let out another moan. This one was more confident, and earned an approving nod from Hael. She pounded her open hand against the door in a steady rhythm, just hard enough to mimic the sound of a human body being pressed repeatedly against the old wood. He heard hushed voices outside, and someone asked loudly, “Who’s in there?” but it was a voice Castiel didn’t recognize. He felt wild, almost. Exhilarated, and he wasn’t even doing anything but faking it. Maybe that’s what made it so much… fun?

Hael squealed, and then said his name in a way he’d never heard anyone say it. It was almost enough to make him feel something different towards the girl he’s been denying for years, but not quite.

 

_ Dean _

 

Outside of the empty classroom next to Charms, Dean walked slowly up to the group of people gathered around the door. “The hell’s goin’ on? Charms is that way.” He pointed down the corridor towards the room they actually needed, but was quickly shushed. Dean squinted at the shusher, then pushed his way towards the front, just as Castiel Novak opened the door and stepped out, Hael close behind him. Dean stopped dead, his hand outstretched towards the door handle. He blinked, looking from Castiel to Hael and then back again, noting absolutely every piece of clothing that was out of place, and the way Castiel’s hair was sticking up at odd angles. He didn’t miss the flush in Castiel’s cheeks either, and he was convinced that at this exact moment, it mirrored his own. He locked his eyes with Cass’ impossibly blue ones, and refused to lower his gaze. “Mhm... right, you’re not  _ into _ her. You were just  _ in _ her.”

 

_Castiel_

 

Castiel’s eyes widened, and he could feel his heart rate speed up. He shifted back slightly on his feet, wanting to disappear back into the room. His eyes were locked on Dean’s and he found he couldn’t advert them, as hard as he may have tried. “I wasn’t- this didn’t-,” he paused, unsure of how to describe this.  

Dean held his gaze for a moment longer, then he turned on his heels and yelled over his shoulder, “So Novak got laid, nothin’ to see here, folks. It was bound to happen sometime, let’s move it along. I’ve been late to a lot of classes in my day, but never cuz someone  _ else  _ was havin’ sex.” It almost looked to Castiel as though Dean was forcing his feet to keep going; his steps looked stuttered as he walked towards the door to Charms. He watched as Dean yanked it open and then ushered all of the onlookers inside. He glanced once at Cass before following the others in and letting the door close behind him.

Castiel closed his eyes and tilted his head to the ground. He was both thankful for Dean at this moment and completely and utterly embarrassed. He looked over to where Hael was, but she was gone. He supposed she probably ran as soon as she got the chance. He wanted to say something to Dean, but he didn’t even know where he’d begin, so he stayed quiet, fixing his clothing and hair as he followed the others into the classroom.

 

_ Dean _

 

Dean watched Castiel shuffle into Charms class awkwardly; his hands shoved in his pockets, his eyes glued to the ground. He didn’t look in Dean’s direction as he took the seat next to him. 

Dean looked over at him, all sex hair and flushed cheeks, and was still a little confused from what happened in the hallway. “You know, if you want my help with this class, you’re gonna have to look at me.” 

Castiel visibly tensed, but looked to him and nodded once. “I know.”

Dean sighed; just like that they were back to the awkwardness he thought they shook after Hogsmeade. “Yeah, great. Just follow my lead and you’ll be fine, with any luck we can get outta this without a whole lot of actual talking.” 

Cass didn’t answer him as the door to the classroom swung open, and Professor Effie Trinket made her grand entrance. “Settle, settle, Charm’s class is about to begin!”

Dean was glad he didn’t have to try and force a conversation with Castiel; he wasn’t really sure how to explain what had happened outside or why he got so mad about it.  _ If the guy wants to get laid, who the hell am I to give him shit for it?  _ He watched Professor Trinket as Castiel pulled out his book, flipping open to what looked like a random page.

“Today we will be focusing on one main charm, but I do have a revision quiz from the past few weeks.” She nodded once and made eye contact with Dean. “Mr. Winchester, do you happen to know the incantation for the Levitation Charm?”

Dean wiped his hands on his robes.  _ Of course this crazy bitch picked me first.  _ He glanced at Castiel, for some reason wanting to impress him. “Which one? There’s uhh…  _ Wingardium Leviosa,  _ and  _ locomotor,  _ and if you’re tryin’ to lift a body, you could use  _ Mobilicorpus  _ or  _ Levicorpus.”  _

She seemed impressed with Dean’s answers and nodded. “Very good, Mr. Winchester. Can you demonstrate  _ Levicorpus  _ for the class? Perhaps with the help of Mr. Novak?”

Dean’s face fell, after what they’d witness that Charm do in the choosing, he wasn’t eager to repeat the scene. He looked at Cass nervously, but Castiel simply nodded and stood. Dean stood as well, pulling his wand out of his robes. Castiel pursed his lips and said quietly enough that Dean was sure he was the only one who heard, “this is just like my Dark Arts lesson. Just do it.” 

Dean took a deep breath and pointed his wand at Castiel. “ _ Levicorpus!”  _ Castiel’s body swung as he was lifted into the air by his ankle. He hung upside down and Dean could tell he was fighting the urge to try and free himself, and his face was a deep shade of red.

Dean clenched his jaw and looked at Professor Trinket. “Can I let him down now?”

The class  _ ooh’d  _ and  _ ahh’d  _ as they watched and Professor Trinket nodded. “Gently, yes.”

_ Gently?! I swear this spell is more jinx than it is charm, there’s no “gentle” way to set someone down from it.  _ He searched his mind and once again, the counter-jinx wasn’t coming to him. He watched Castiel sway helplessly, and Romilda Vane’s face replaced his in Dean’s mind. It came back to him in a rush, and he muttered, “ _ liberacorpus!”  _ as he lunged forward, half-catching Castiel as he fell. “Thanks,” Castiel said quietly, standing up and brushing off his robes. 

“Very good, Mr. Winchester,” Professor Trinket grinned. “You as well, Mr. Novak. Well done. Now, I want you to break up into pairs and focus on making your textbooks move.”

Dean looked at Castiel with raised eyebrows. “We’re already here, you wanna just partner up?” 

Castiel didn’t meet his eyes as he shrugged and closed his book. “Do you think she wants us to use  _ locomotor?  _ It seems like  _ Wingardium Leviosa  _ would be a bit too far back, even for a revision quiz.” 

Dean blinked at him. “What did you just say?” 

Castiel blinked right back. “ _ Wingardium Leviosa  _ was years ago, Dean. It was one of the first charms we learned.” 

“If it was one of the first charms we learned… why are you saying it wrong?” Dean fought a laugh, keeping his facial expression as neutral as possible. 

“What are you talking about, I’m saying it fine.” 

Dean chuckled quietly. “Cass, it’s “levi-OH-sa, not levio-SAH.” 

Castiel rolled his eyes. “That’s what I said.” 

“No it’s --” Dean cut off, chuckling still. “Let’s do the other one, I’m sure that’s what she’s looking for. Try it, just add the name of the thing you’re tryin’ to move after it.” 

Castiel licked his lips, which drew Dean’s attention. He snapped his eyes quickly to the textbook as Castiel waved his wand and said, “ _ Locomotor textbook!”  _ The book lifted off of the table and stayed stationary in the air. Dean nodded. “Good, Cass. Now make it actually move.”

He watched as Castiel placed his tongue between his teeth in concentration, and guided the textbook back and forth through the air with his wand. Dean grinned despite himself. “You don’t actually need my help in this class, do you?” The corner of Castiel’s mouth turned up slightly but he gave no other answer. He lowered the book back to the table and Dean repeated Castiel’s actions, successfully moving the book. 

They traded back and forth a couple of times, and then sat down and looked to Professor Trinket. 

“Alright, alright! Settle!” Professor Trinket eyes seemed to scan the students, landing on Raphael and Remus. “Mr. Lupin, Mr. Helm, my instructions were to move the  _ textbook _ , not each other. Very disappointed.”

Neither Raphael Helm or Remus Lupin seemed bothered by her disappointment at all. Dean avoided eye contact with Remus, there was still something odd about him that he couldn’t place. Oddly enough, he noticed Castiel was avoiding eye contact as well, but not with Remus. “Raphael steal all your pumpkin pasties or somethin’, Cass?” His face turned red again, and Dean wasn’t surprised when he didn’t get an actual answer.  _ Typical.  _

Professor Trinket drew the class’ attention back to her as she spoke. “Now, for the revision quiz. If you think you know the answer, raise your hand,” she paused, tilting her head before asking the first question. “What is the incantation for the shield charm?”

Both Dean and Castiel raised their hands, as did several other students throughout the room. 

“Wow, okay then, ummm… Mr. Pettigrew? Your answer, please.”

Dean frowned as he lowered his hand, and then groaned audibly as Peter Pettigrew said, 

“ _ Lapifors?”  _ Castiel face-palmed next to him. 

Dean watched as Professor Trinket squinted at him. “ _ Lapi-  _ no. No, Mr. Pettigrew, that turns things into rabbits. I am concerned that you don’t know that. Anyone else have a  _ decent _ guess?”

Dean lost his fight against his laughter. “ _ Protego,  _ Professor.” 

“Ah, yes, there we go.  _ Protego _ , very good,” she shifted her eyes to Peter, the tone in her voice very sarcastic. “I can see how you may have confused those two, Mr. Pettigrew.” She paused, before speaking again. “Next question, then. What does the spell  _ Fumos _ do?”

Castiel raised his hand, so Dean kept his lowered. Less people seemed confident this time; only a couple of other people had their hands up. 

“Mr. Novak, your answer, please. Please don’t disappoint me.”

Castiel licked his lip and said with a face much straighter than Dean could have kept, “that is the incantation for the Smokescreen Spell, which might come in handy if one were to find themselves needing a cover for escape after accidentally turning someone into a rabbit instead of producing a shield.” 

Professor Trinket seemed to struggle to hold back laughter as she looked to the ground. “You’re correct, Mr. Novak. Good work. Next, then. Who would make the best use of the charm  _ Alohamora _ ?”

Once again, both Dean and Castiel’s hands were in the air. Almost every hand in the room was this time, which Dean was irritated about. This was a spell he had taught several of them last year when they were doing some questionable things after hours. 

“Mr. Winchester, your answer?”

He lowered his hand. “ _ Alohamora  _ is a spell used to unlock doors, so I guess the answer would be someone that needs to get somewhere they probably shouldn’t be getting.” 

“Can you give me someone specific?”

He frowned.  _ Is she askin’ me to rat people out?  _ “You mean like a specific example? Uhh..” He paused, trying to think of a non-mischievous answer. “Maybe if you lock your house keys inside of your house and need to get in?” 

She nodded to him. “You are correct, yes. I was looking for thief, but your examples work as well. Well done.” She cleared her throat. “Which spell has the opposite effect of  _ Lumos _ ?”

Every single hand in the room was up this time. 

Professor Trinket scanned the room. “Miss. Vetter, do you have an answer?”

Dean watched as the girl Castiel was just…  _ occupied  _ with stood up a little straighter and answered, “ _ Nox! _ ” Dean leaned in and whispered to Castiel, “At least you picked a smart one.” 

And suddenly Dean was in pain because Castiel had kicked him under the desk. “Shut up, Winchester.”

“Very good, Miss. Vetter. Well done. Lastly… what is the primary use of the charm  _ Scourgify _ ?”

Once again, a handful of arms shot up in the air. As Dean raised his, he cocked it out to the side enough to elbow Castiel. 

Professor Trinket narrowed her eyes at Dean. “Mr. Winchester, keep your hands to yourself, please. Mr. Novak, do you have an answer?”

Dean lowered his hand and crossed his arms, glaring at Castiel because he’s the one that started it. Castiel kept his eyes on Trinket as he said, “It is used to torture people.”

Effie frowned a little bit, shaking her head. “I’m sorry, Mr. Novak, but your answer is incorrect. At least it made more sense than Mr. Pettigrew’s answer. Mr. Winchester, would you like to help him?”

Dean was still glaring at Castiel, but decided to be nice. “I think he said that because the word ‘scourge’ refers to a whip, which is used for punishment. It doesn’t make any sense that the incantation  _ scourgify  _ is actually used for cleaning. I learned that one pretty early on, there was no way I was doin’ dishes when I had a magic friggen wand.” 

Castiel looked down but smiled a little bit, as Professor Trinket nodded. “Cleaning would have been just fine, Mr. Winchester.”

“Hey, the more you know, right?” Dean shrugged.

Professor Trinket ignored him. “Next week we will be focusing on learning the incantation for the banishing charm. You’re all dismissed.”

Dean tucked his wand away and put his book back in his bag. He could hear Castiel doing the same next to him. Dean’s eyebrows were furrowed; he couldn’t understand why him and Cass couldn’t just pick a side. He turned to face him, slinging his bag over his shoulder. 

“Guess I’ll see you in Potions?” 

Castiel nodded and shrugged slightly. “Yes, I suppose.” 

_ Good enough.  _ Dean looked away from Cass’s stupid blue eyes and left the room. 


	7. Christmas All Over Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas at the castle, and Dean and Cass finally quit fighting long enough to pick a different argument.

December had always been Castiel’s favourite time of year, especially at Hogwarts. Every year by mid-December, the school grounds were covered in snow, ensuring it would always be a white Christmas. The snow brought along snowmen and snow ball fights, but it made the school look magical. More magical than usual, at least. There were giant Christmas trees that seemed as if they touched the sky, decorated by the most beautiful Christmas baubles and decorations. The Great Hall was always the  _ perfect _ Christmas venue and the festive Christmas dinner was something Castiel couldn’t compare to any other meal. There were substantial amounts of butterbeer, it was the perfect drink to help you warm up after being outside and enjoying the snow. The school population seemed to die down around Christmas Time, as most kids went home to their families. Castiel, however, had never once went home for Christmas. Honestly, he didn’t want too. He enjoyed having the massive, empty castle to himself, at least that’s what it felt like. The only other person he shared his time with at Christmas was Rue Marsh and that’s because there was no way he was letting her go back to her cabinet under the stairs. He did his best to make Christmas as special as he possibly could for her, knowing that with the way she grew up, she probably didn’t get many Christmases. 

It wasn’t quite Christmas day yet, so the school was still hustling with people and creatures everywhere. He made his way into the Great Hall and grinned slowly, taking in the scenery. No matter how many times he’d come in and out of this room, he always noticed something different. This time, it was a few sparkly presents in the corner of the room. He knew they were probably just for decorations, but it made the room much more lively, nonetheless. He slid into the Hufflepuff table beside Charlie Bradbury, as she smiled and nudged him. “Hey, Novak. What’s up?”  
He shook his head with a small smile, nodding hello to Nymphadora Tonks. “Nothing, really. I thought I’d eat something before I headed outside.” As he spoke, a plateful of food appeared in front of him, accompanied by a butterbeer. He silently thanked whoever or whatever it was that always made  the food appear and began eating.  
“Are you joining the snowball fight later?” Charlie asked through her own bites of food. “I heard it’s going to be massive this year, apparently Dean Winchester organized it.”

He raised his eyebrows and shrugged. “I wasn’t really planning on going outside just to have snow thrown at me, thanks. I don’t understand how that’s enjoyable.”  
It was Nymphadora’s turn to shrug now. “I mean, it _is_ fun. It’s like… fighting your friends, but with something soft that can’t hurt them.”

“Something soft and _ridiculously_ cold,” Annie Cresta added as she sat down on the other side of Castiel. “There’s so many other things that you can use snow for.”  
Charlie squinted. “Like?”  
“Like… building snowmen, for example,” Annie stated, sipping her butterbeer as soon as it appeared.

“Or making snow angels, sled riding, making snow forts…” Castiel added, taking a bite  of his Cauldron cake. “I’ll partake in all of those activities, but I think I’ll sit the snowball fighting out.”

And that really was Castiel’s plan, until Rue Marsh showed up, standing at the end of the table, rocking back and forth on her heels. “Castiel?”

He shifted his eyes over to her, tilting his head. “Are you okay, Rue?” He watched her nod before he spoke again. “What’s up, then?”  
“Can we go to the snowball fight later? I hear it’s going to be the best one yet!” she grinned, as Castiel sighed with a small smile.  
“Yes, alright. We can go to the snowball fight,” he muttered, still holding that smile. 

She grinned. “Yay! I’ll go get my snow gear on!” With that, she ran off, causing Castiel to shake his head as he turned back to the rest of them.

He met Charlie’s narrowed eyes first and then Nymphadora’s. “What?”

“When  _ Rue _ asks you to go, you all of a sudden want to go. When we ask, you’re all ‘the snow’s to cold, blah blah blah.’ We’re onto you, Novak,” Charlie spoke, grinning slightly.

Castiel raised his eyebrows. “What can I say?” He stands, looking down at them with a grin and a fake serious voice. “I like her better than all of you.” He took off running before any of the remaining three could get a word in.

_ Dean _

 

Dean had spent the better part of the last week recruiting people for the biggest snowball fight that Hogwarts has ever seen. He’d invited  _ everyone,  _ at least half the school. He had even invited people he’d never spoken to before.  _ Don’t need to be on a first name basis with someone to hit ‘em in the face with a ball of ice.  _ About the only person he knew that he hadn’t invited was Castiel. 

After their encounter in the corridor outside of Charms, things had been awkward. The more time that passed, the more irritated Dean got about it. He didn’t even know why - he just  _ was. _ He had a feeling that word would have spread to him and he’d show up anyway, but at least Dean wouldn’t be the one to ask him. 

He’d lost count of the amount of times he’d walked the castle grounds in search of a place to set up their fortress. He had planned to make a game of Capture the Flag out of it, but instead of an actual flag, the teams would be searching for a mystery Christmas present. He had Lisa and Jo handle those, he’d always been horrible with gifts for people he  _ actually _ knew - how was he supposed to figure out what virtual strangers would like? 

He met Jo out on the grounds about an hour before they were supposed to begin. “Hey, you got everything ready?” 

Jo glared at him. “As if you can’t see the two  _ giant  _ packages blocking most of my face.” 

Dean chuckled. “Y'know, I honestly thought you got better lookin’ all of sudden.” Jo reached out and tried to smack him at that comment, and the gift on top started to fall. He reached out and grabbed it. “Are one of these better than the other one? I want the crappy one on our side in case the other team wins. 

Jo adjusted her grip on the box she was still holding and shook her head. “Nope, they’re exactly the same. We made sure of it, just so no one complained about it not being fair. They’re nothing spectacular, just some things that might brighten up someone’s otherwise very lonely Christmas.” She looked pointedly at him, and he scoffed. 

“I’m not lonely. Besides, I’ll still have Sammy.” 

Jo looked away. “He uhh… he didn’t tell you yet?” 

Dean frowned instantly. “Tell me what?”

She seemed to  _ seriously _ contemplate whether or not it was worth being the one to tell him whatever it was. “Alyssa’s family invited Sam to come spend the holidays with them this year… and he agreed. They’re leaving tomorrow, like everyone else.”

He sucked on his teeth. “Yeah, no, of course he told me that.”  _ Lie.  _ “I was just… seein’ if you knew.” Jo looked like she definitely didn’t believe him, so he changed the subject quickly. “Let’s just get our home base set up here, alright? Less talking, more planning.” He pointed at an area just in front of a line of thick trees. “How about you set us up here? I’ll see if I can find Finnick, he’s supposed to be the Captain of the other team. He’s been out here all morning building a snow wall.” He rolled his eyes, turning and taking the other gift with him.

It only took him a few minutes to locate Finnick’s giant wall of snow. He muttered under his breath, “Jesus Christ… how the hell are we supposed to get around  _ that?”  _ He walked as close to it as he could, noticing it was roughly 7 feet high. “Hey! Finn! C’mere, I got the… flag.” 

Finnick came up behind him, startling him. “Why are you yelling at a wall, Winchester? You finally cracked?” Dean turned to see Finnick grinning. He handed the box to him. 

“Oh buddy, I cracked a long time ago. Just take your damn present and get ready, the others should be showin’ up soon. Meet me in the middle though, okay? We gotta pick teams.” Finnick nodded and Dean took off at a run back to Jo, where he started making snowballs and stacking them behind the fort she was building. 

About a half an hour later, Dean had successfully made about 6 dozen tightly packed snowballs. Sam, Lisa, Alyssa, and Jo’s brother Ash had joined them and helped Jo finish the fort, which passed Dean’s inspection with flying colours. They were making their way towards the middle ground; it was time to meet up with the others.

“Alright, now there’s no rule against using magic here, so one of us is going to have to stay behind to keep a shield up around this place. They can’t win if they can’t get in.” 

Alyssa volunteered. “I’ll do it!  _ Protego,  _ right?” Dean nodded. 

“Yep, that’ll do it. Keep in mind this is just a game, alright? A game we need to win at absolutely all costs.” Dean’s face was entirely serious, but Sam laughed anyway. 

“Okay, Dean. We get it. You’ll put dungbombs _ everywhere  _ if we lose.” Sam winked at Alyssa and then walked over to Dean. “Co-Captains?”

Dean nodded. “You know it, little brother. There’s nobody I’d rather go into battle with.” He clapped his hand on Sam’s shoulder, who then pointed behind Dean. 

“Shit, Dean, did you invite the whole school?” 

He shrugged as he turned. “Pretty mu--” he stopped short, because it honestly did look like the whole school turned up. It was probably closer to 50 people, but to Dean, that was more than he’d expected. He cursed under his breath. 

He saw Finnick make his way through the crowd, coming to stand next to him. Dean glanced at him. “You ready for this?” 

Finnick nodded, then faced the crowd. “Attention ladies and ghouls, it’s time for the Battle Royale of snowball fights. Many of you will die horribly embarrassing deaths today, but don’t let that get you down. This is more of a social death than a physical one, unless you get on McClaggen’s bad side.” 

Dean glanced to the kid that broke his elbow during Quidditch tryouts, and watched him crack his big, beefy knuckles.  _ I will never understand how that oaf became a Gryffindor.  _

Finnick grinned at McClaggen. “Now, if we’re all ready to start, we’re going to pick teams. Each team will have one goal… get ahold of gift-wrapped box hidden in the opposing team’s fortress. You find the gift before the other team finds theirs, you win. You get hit by a snowball, you’re out. Simple as that. Everyone ready?” 

Dean watched as several people nodded, and then he stepped forward. “Alright, since this was my brain-child, I get to start us off. Which one of you lucky bastards wants to be the first on the winning team?” Dean’s eyes scanned the crowd. “Where the hell is Sirius?” 

Sirius poked his head around Newt Scamander and his bowtruckle, then jogged over to Dean and high-fived him. “Awesome,” Dean said. “Finn, go ahead and pick your first loser.” 

Finnick rolled his eyes. “Well, since Newt’s right there, I’ll take him.” Newt shrugged and joined Finnick’s side. 

It continued on like that for a few rounds; Dean successfully securing Lisa, Jo, Ash, Alyssa and Sam, just like he planned. Finnick took a Slytherin girl named Lilith, a Ravenclaw named Padma, Charlie Bradbury, Johanna Mason, and Raphael Helm. 

Dean squinted at Finnick’s last choice. “You got a hard-on for the Hufflepuffs or somethin’? Why don’t you just claim the whole damn house?” 

Finnick shrugged. “I have my reasons.” 

Dean then chose a couple of Ravenclaw boys, Arthur Ketch and Mick Davies, while Finnick selected another set of Hufflepuffs. 

_ Speaking of Hufflepuffs…  _ his eyes scanned the remaining students, and frowned slightly when he didn’t see --  _ there he is.  _ Castiel Novak was standing with a much smaller girl who Dean was pretty sure was named Rue. She was grinning broadly, and Dean glanced at Finnick before choosing Rue for his team.  _ Pissing off two birds with one Rue.  _ Sure enough, Castiel looked agitated that Rue was chosen for Dean’s team. 

Finnick, however, didn’t seem to be bothered. “I’ll take the Carrow twins, if they’re still here…” Alecto and Amycus Carrow ducked out from behind Brutus and McClaggen and made their way to Finnick’s side. 

Dean picked a couple of Gryffindors that he’d seen sneaking around the castle at night. They were twins too, with wildly red hair. He was pretty sure they were seventh years, but he didn’t know their names. 

Back and forth they went, picking people until only a handful of students remained. Dean shifted, starting to think he was going to end up with Castiel on his team whether he wanted him to be or not. He chose Brutus and McClaggen, and Finnick picked yet another set of Hufflepuffs. 

Dean saw an opportunity, and he took it. “Novak! You’re on Finnick’s team, apparently he’s into Hufflepuffs.” He grinned widely as he saw a tall, lanky figure running across the grounds. Dean pointed at him and yelled, “Potter’s mine!” 

Ginny Weasley joined Finnick’s team, as did a girl named Annie. 

That left just a Ravenclaw named Beetee and a Slytherin named Cato, who rounded out Dean’s team. 

He clapped his gloved hands together. “That’s all, folks. Get to your side of the grounds and me and Finnick will send up red sparks when our team is ready to move. Let the games begin!” 

Each team split, racing towards their snow forts. Dean’s face was flushed from the cold, but he was excited it was finally time.  _ This is Hogwarts. This is magic. Not the Choosing, not the Mudblood Games. This, right here. An enchanted snowball fight on the grounds of the coolest place in the world.  _

He readied his team, and sent up a spiral of red sparks into the air. A couple of beats later, he saw Finnick’s sparks, and he gave the signal for his team to move. 

Dean had placed an Undetectable Extension Charm on the bag he usually carried his books in, and had enchanted his snowballs to stay frozen inside of it. He took off at a run, heading the long way around to the wall of snow. He crouched down behind a snowman that some of the first years must have made, and set his bag next to him. He grabbed a snowball in each hand and peeked around the corner. He spotted Johanna Mason first; she was pacing in front of the gap to the far right side of the wall, where Dean was. He waited until he was sure he had the timing of her paces down and snuck up behind her just as she turned away from him. 

The snowball hit her right between her shoulder blades, and she yelped. “Damnit! Who?!” She whirled around to see Dean, who was grinning and racing past her to take out Ginny Weasley. 

He dropped down, ducking a snowball that was thrown at him by Newt, but was pleased to see Sam get revenge for him. “Attaboy, Sammy! Take the other side! Where’d Sirius go?!” 

Dean heard a  _ thwack  _ behind him, and turned to see that Annie Cresta had just taken a snowball to the side of her face, her arm still cocked back in preparation of throwing a snowball right at Dean. “I’m right here!” Sirius said as he closed the distance. “You know I’ve always got your back.” 

James joined Sam and they headed toward the left side of the wall. Sirius and Dean stayed to the right. “We need to figure out how to get around this damn thing.” He eyed the line of opposing team members that were guarding the weak spots, and noticed Castiel among them. Dean crouched down and grinned. “Hey, Sirius… wanna see somethin’ funny?” 

Sirius kneeled next to him. “Winchester… I’ve been waiting for you to do something funny for nearly 5 years. It’s about damn time.” 

Dean grabbed another snowball from his stash, then pulled his wand out. He did the familiar old swish and flick motion as he muttered, “ _ Wingardium Leviosa!”  _ The snowball he had been pointing his wand at rose into the air. “ _ Ventus!”  _ A blast of wind shot out of his wand, propelling the snowball forward. Dean watched as it got closer to hitting Castiel and then -  _ thwack.  _ It had made contact, just not with Castiel. Padma Patil had stepped in front of him at the last second. “Damnit,” he muttered again. 

Sirius looked at him. “That was supposed to be funny? You muggle borns have the  _ weirdest  _ sense of humor.” 

“Wasn’t supposed to hit her.” Dean narrowed his eyes and tried again. This time, Castiel spotted him. 

“I can see you, Winchester,” Castiel called over to him. “Do it, I dare you.”

Dean grinned to himself from behind the snowman. He winked at Sirius, then turned, pointing his wand at the ground just in front of Castiel. “ _ Alarte Ascendare!”  _ He wasn’t even sure it would work, because he’d only seen it used on solid objects before, but he whooped triumphantly when a large puff of snow was projected up off the ground and covered Castiel as it settled.

Castiel huffed and narrowed his eyes at Dean as he shivered. “That was hardly fair, Dean.”

“All’s fair in love and war,  _ Novak.”  _ Dean took off at a run, grabbing his bag. Sirius was hot on his heels. 

“Would you quit flirting with the competition and focus! You could have actually gotten him out there!” Sirius was yelling loud enough for half the grounds to hear, and Dean stopped dead. 

“I wasn’t… that wasn’t….  _ pffft. _ Just worry about you and I’ll worry about me, got it?” He whipped a snowball at a Hufflepuff on Finnick’s team and it hit home. “See? Not distracted, and certainly _ not _ flirting.” 

He glanced at the sky; he’d given Alyssa instructions to shoot up more red sparks if the other team found their gift.  _ Nothing yet, good.  _ A safe distance away but still within eyesight of Castiel and the wall, he turned back to face them. He watched as Sam and James made a beeline for the left side of the wall, and James was too slow to dodge the snowball Castiel threw at him. Sam made it past, and Dean’s stomach flipped. He smacked Sirius. “Dude - look at Sammy, he’s gonna make --  _ damnit.”  _ Barely five feet from the wall, Sam was hit by Amycus Carrow. 

Both Carrow twins took off towards Dean’s team’s fort, leaving just Castiel and Charlie Bradbury guarding the wall in front of him. He looked around, picking up his bag and moving again. He walked, knowing he was just far enough away that he’d have plenty of time to dodge a snowball, but close enough he’d be able to catch snippets of their conversation if they chose to talk about a plan. 

He saw a group of kids on Finnick’s team running towards him.  _ Great, I’m about to be friggen sandwiched. Where the hell is Sirius?  _ He took off at a run, trying to get back to the snowman. He was spotted, still too far away to dive for cover. Several snowballs flew at him at once, and he pointed his wand at them and said quickly, “ _ Arresto Momentum!”  _ The snowballs started moving much slower, buying Dean the time he needed to scramble back behind the snowman. He slid as he landed, soaking his pants and robes. But at least he was safe… for now. 

He saw Sirius standing off to the side, a large, white blotch on his robes.  _ So much for plan Sirius. C’mon, Dean. Think. How to get around a bunch of idiot Hufflepuffs and take down a giant wall of snow at the same time? You need to create a distraction. But where’s the rest of your damn team?  _ As if he’d sent that thought out telepathically, Brutus and McClaggen both came charging out from the treeline, yelling and throwing snowballs at the group of Hufflepuffs that had been chasing him.  _ There’s your distraction, just do it.  _ He turned, sticking his head out around the snowman and pointing his wand at the wall, a safe distance away from Castiel and Charlie. “ _ Lacarnum Inflamarae!”  _ A ball of fire shot out from Dean’s wand, and blasted a hole in the wall of snow. Dean scrambled to his feet.  _ Too late to change course now.  _ He said the spell again, taking out another section of wall. He didn’t glance at Castiel or Charlie as he sprinted at full speed towards the present that was now visible. 

 

_ Castiel _

Castiel jumped back from the blast, but noted Dean sprinting towards the present and quickly made a snowball. He pointed his wand at Dean and spoke loudly. “ _ Colloshoo! _ ” He made sure Dean was successfully stuck, before speaking again, pointing his wand at the snowball. “ _ Wingardium Leviosa!”  _

“God damnit, Novak, quit sayin’ it wrong! If you’re gonna hit me, just friggen hit me!” Dean yelled, trying and failing to move his feet. 

With a flick of his wrist, Castiel maneuvered the snowball towards Dean, successfully pelting him with it. He smirked to himself, before he took off in a sprint towards the wall guarding the present. As soon as he made it there, he heard Alyssa. “ _ Periculum! _ ”

He looked up at the sky to see the red sparks erupt from her wand, before he noticed who appeared from behind the wall. A very flushed Newt appeared, present in hand. Castiel grinned, looking back at Dean who was still stuck to the ground. “You fought valiantly, Dean. Really, you did.” He pointed his wand at him again and said, “ _ Skurge! _ ” Whatever ectoplasm was securing Dean in place disappeared as Castiel grinned.

The second Dean’s legs were free, he ran at Castiel and tackled him into the snow. “You’re a cheater, Novak! You know how easily I coulda just Confunded you two and taken the damn present?!” 

Castiel laughed, mimicking Dean. “All’s fair in love and war,  _ Winchester. _ ”

Dean furrowed his brows, still on top of Castiel where they landed in the snow. “Now you’re a cheater  _ and  _ a copycat. What’s the matter, you scared you’d never beat me fair and square?” 

He shrugged, trying to squirm out from beneath Dean. “I didn’t even want to play in the first place, and you forced be to be on Finnick’s team.” He breathed out, flailing his legs. “Would you get  _ off _ of me?” 

Something like panic flashed in Dean’s eyes, and he quickly scrambled off. Dean turned away and wiped off his robes. “Yeah, whatever. If you didn’t want to play, you shouldn’t have come. It’s not like you were actually invited anyway.” Dean stormed off, heading back towards the castle. 

Castiel frowned because firstly,  _ ouch, what did he mean I wasn’t invited? There were invitations?  _ He watched Dean go as he sat up, eventually making it to his feet again. He dusted himself off and bent over to pick up his wand, tucking it in his robes again. He looked at Sirius, still frowning. “Did I do something wrong?”

Sirius raised his eyebrows at Castiel. “Does  _ existing  _ count? Who knows what Dean’s ever thinking, your guess is as good as mine.”  

Sam came up and looked between them. “Hey, have you guys seen Dean? Apparently someone told him something that wasn’t really their place to tell, and I think he’s really pissed at me.”

Sirius shrugged and jerked his head towards Castiel. “I don’t know, ask his boyfriend. He was running back towards the castle after these two took a tumble in the snow. I’ll see if I can find him… I might be the only one here he  _ doesn’t  _ want to hex.” Sirius took off after Dean, disappearing quickly from sight.

Castiel looked to the ground and mumbled. “I’m not his boyfriend. I think Dean’s just a sore loser.”

Sam looked offended. “Hey, man. That’s my brother, and he worked really hard organizing all of this. He’s not a sore loser, he just found out he’s going to be spending Christmas alone, and I wasn’t even brave enough to tell him myself. Have some compassion, would you?” Sam shook his head, then jogged after Sirius. 

Castiel couldn’t find his words. He watched Sam disappear as well, before Newt came up beside him. “Castiel, it’s alright, you didn’t do anything wrong.”  
“Yes, uh, thank you, Newt.” Castiel turned to him. “Good work, by the way.”

Newt looked at the present in his hands, before offering it to Castiel. “Here, take it. I’m going home for Christmas anyways, and I know you always stay here. Maybe it can help cheer you up or something.”

Castiel shook his head once, but then realized Newt was right. He smiled slightly and took the present. “Thank you.”

Newt smiled back and then turned, making his way into the castle. Castiel followed behind him, feeling less festive than he ever has.

 

_ Dean _

 

Saying goodbye to Sam and his friends had been hard, but he’d understood. If he’d had somewhere to go, he might have done the same thing. He remembered that he’d no longer be going to Lisa’s for the summer, and his mood sank even further as he rolled out of bed on Christmas morning. 

Dean used to _ love _ Christmas, but it had been several years since he’d had a real one. His dad was always gone hunting, and his mom worked two or three jobs at a time to make up for the fact that hunting didn’t pay the bills. Most Christmases, it was just him and Sam. He didn’t mind, but now, he didn’t even have Sam. His dorm was completely empty, as was the foot of his bed. He rubbed his shoulder, glancing around and wondering if he was wrong, and it wasn’t really Christmas morning at all. 

He wasn’t wrong, there were piles of gifts at the foot of everyone’s bed but his own. He knew not to expect anything from Sirius, he was just as poor as Dean was. And his parents sending him something was a joke at this point; this was his fifth Christmas at the castle, and no such present ever came. His mom said it was because they weren’t sure how to use Owl Post, and his dad had forbidden her from finding out. If he got a present at all, he got it once he was home for the summer. 

He was surprised, however that Sam hadn’t left him anything. He guessed his brother must have just forgotten in his excitement of spending the holiday with a real family for once, so his happiness for Sam quickly outweighed his self-pity. He slid out of bed and dressed in his normal clothes; jeans, boots, and a dark green flannel. He ran his hand through his hair, which was about as close to brushing it as he ever got, and made his way down to the Gryffindor common room. 

He rolled his eyes when Brutus was the only other one down there. “Are we the only two here?”

Brutus did nothing but grunt in response, and Dean raised his eyebrows as he shook his head. “Yeah, good talk. I’m gonna go grab breakfast, I guess you could join if you want.” Brutus made the same grunting noise but didn’t move, and now Dean couldn’t tell if that was supposed to be a yes or a no. He waited a moment longer before heading down to breakfast alone. 

When he got into the Great Hall, there were about a dozen kids scattered across the four House tables. He recognized two of them, but he didn’t want to intrude - he was pretty sure they were an item. He sat down by himself towards the top of the Gryffindor table and waited for his food, chewing on his lip with his hands in his lap. 

It arrived, and Dean ate quickly - he wasn’t eager to continue sitting there by himself. When he was done, he slid off the bench and kept his eyes on the floor as he walked out of the Great Hall. He stood in the Entrance Hall, looking between the doors that would take him outside and the staircase that would lead him back to the Gryffindor common room. 

As it turned out, being outside or being alone with Brutus wasn’t a difficult decision for Dean to make. He didn’t bother grabbing a jacket, he just made his way through the giant double doors and slipped outside. He knew there was a chance he would freeze to death if he tried to fly in this weather, but he wasn’t particularly sure that it mattered. 

He jogged down to the Quidditch Pitch, donning his robes which provided some extra warmth and grabbing the Cleansweep Seven from the broomshed. He mounted and kicked off from the ground the second he hit open air. 

The rush of wind was icy cold, but Dean barely noticed. There were no bludgers to chase, no Quidditch captains blowing whistles in his ear… it was just Dean and the sky. 

  
  


_ Castiel _

 

Castiel yawned, stretching out his arms before he opened his eyes. He looked around noting the presents at the end of everyone’s bed. Newt and Justin, whom he shared a dorm room with, were gone. They left yesterday to go home for Christmas, as did most of the other students. He slid out of bed and noticed a small box at the end of his own.  _ Did my parents really send me something? Seriously? _ He moved to the box quickly and opened it, a single chocolate frog was placed inside. He smiled to himself, reading the little note that was attached.

 

_ Happy Christmas, Castiel! Thank you for being my friend. _

_ Love, Rue. _

 

Castiel chuckled to himself, closing the box and setting it down on his bed again. He got dressed quickly and grabbed the present he had for Rue, before he made his way down to the Great Hall. He swore he’d never seen it this empty, there were  _ maybe _ twelve kids still there, at most. He spotted Rue sitting alone at one of the tables and made his way over, sliding into the spot across from her. 

“Castiel! Did you get your present?” she asked immediately, her eyes wide. “I asked the elves to-...”  
Castiel cut her off, chuckling quietly. “I did get it, Rue. That was very thoughtful of you. Thank you.”  
She grinned with a look of pride, settling back into her chair. “Happy Christmas!”

“Happy Christmas to you too,” he smiled, pulling out the medium sized gift he had for her. “I got you something too.”  
“You did?!” she gasped, eyeing the present. “Is that it?”  
He nodded and set the present down in front of her. “Well, go on! Open it!”

She grinned and tore the paper off the box before taking the lid off. Inside was a bunch of different things, and Castiel watched as she pulled it all out. “Crazy socks! Are these from Gladrags?”

He shrugged a little, smiling. “I don’t know, are they?”

She grinned still and set them aside, pulling out various candy items from Honeydukes. She continued to tear everything out of the box, revealing some new robes and some joke candy from Zonko’s Joke Shop. She lowered her voice before she spoke. “Are these hiccup sweets?”  
He nodded with a small smirk. “You’re too smart to be tricked. You’ll have to use them on someone else.”  
She laughed quietly and put everything back in the box, before hugging Castiel gently. “Thank you, Castiel. Happy Christmas.”  
He was always so taken aback by how such simple things meant the world to Rue. Crazy socks, for example. Most kids _hated_ receiving socks on Christmas, but Rue was beside herself. “You’re welcome, Rue.”

He pulled back with a smile after a moment as breakfast appeared on the table in front of them. He began to eat and looked over at her. “So, what do you want to do today?”

She shrugged a little bit as she chewed, thinking. “I’m not sure. Can we do the sing-a-long later?”  
He scoffed, chuckling quietly. “You ask me this every year, Rue. You know I don’t sing.”  
“You don’t have to know how to sing, though. It’s just for fun!” She watched him, pulling out her best puppy dog eyes. “Please?”  
He sighed, nodding once. “We’ll see, okay? Who knows, we might find something better to do instead.”

She nodded with a smile as she sipped her hot chocolate. “What did you get Dean for Christmas?” 

He squinted a little bit. “What?”

“Dean Winchester? What did you get him for Christmas?” she repeated as if it was obvious.

“I didn’t- why would I-,” he cleared his throat. “Finish eating, would you?” She grinned a small smile, but nodded as she finished eating.

Castiel fell silent, thinking.  _ How did she know I got Dean something? Did I leave it out somewhere? Did someone else see and tell her?  _ It was true, he did get Dean a gift, but it wasn’t anything special, it was just a Sneakoscope from Dervish and Banges, and he figured Dean probably had one already. It’s the thought that counts, right?

After breakfast, Rue and Castiel enjoyed some time outside, making snow angels and snow forts, and even building a snow  _ person _ to look like Professor Trinket, with the help of some magic. “She’s perfect!” Rue laughed, pointing her Alder wood wand at the snowperson, and stating, “ _ Colovaria! _ ” 

Just like that, the once white snow turned to a shade of pink that Professor Trinket was most known for wearing. “Now she’s perfect,” Castiel agreed, grinning down at Rue.

The pair continued to do outdoor things, including Rue teaching Castiel to ice skate. To say the least, the spell  _ Episkey  _ was used on more than one occasion, usually performed by Rue. 

They eventually decided it was too cold to be outside, so they went in and had some butterbeer to help them warm up before changing into dry clothes. Rue had put on a pair of the crazy socks that had tacos on them as a design, finding them to be quite hilarious. They ended up having their own sing-a-long in the Hufflepuff common room and eventually it was time for dinner. He knew Dean was still here, he had seen him a few times throughout the day, mainly in the sky on his broom.

He fixed his hair and pulled his robes off when he returned to his dorm, pointing his wand at them. “ _ Capacious Extremis! _ ” The insides of Castiel’s robes grew in size, but the outside seemed perfectly normal. He grinned and pulled his robes back on, picking up the box Dean’s present was in and placing it inside the newly enlarged compartment in his robes.

Once he was satisfied with his appearance, he met up with Rue in the common room, and together they headed to the Great Hall for the festive Christmas feast.

 

_ Dean _

He must have been flying for hours, because when he landed he was chilled to the bone. It was snowing, which only served to make him colder. He stowed the Cleansweep Seven he’d been riding back in the broomshed and changed back into his regular clothes in the changing room. 

He walked slowly back up to the castle, his stomach growling loudly and making him excited for dinner, even if he’d be dining alone. He wondered what Sam was doing, and if he was happy at Alyssa’s. He was sure he was; Alyssa was a pureblood, which meant Sam was getting to experience life with a wizarding family for the first time. He thought it was really cool of the Blake’s to invite Sam for Christmas, and decided maybe he should send them some kind of a ‘thank you’ note. 

When he got back to the castle, he’d decided to do exactly that. He made his way to the top of the tower to the Owlery, but stopped as he heard voices coming from around the corner. He flattened himself against the wall. 

“It’s nearly over. This might end up being the shortest Mudblood Games we’ve ever had.” Dean recognized the voice as Seneca Crane - Head of Slytherin House, Dark Arts professor, and Death Eater. Crane continued in a hushed tone as Dean crouched down, hidden by the wall but wanting to make himself even smaller. “There are only 3 tributes left, and one of them is believed to be gravely injured. The Malfoys are beside themselves, they had thought for sure that Marvel Henderson was going to win. He turned up dead three days ago.” 

Dean had heard rumors that when a tribute died during the Games, their bodies somehow apparated to a central location where they could be studied by Voldemort’s entourage. It didn’t make sense to him how a dead person could just disappear and reappear somewhere else like that, but he figured there was an awful lot he didn’t know about magic. 

“Who’s left then?” Dean thought he recognized the voice, but couldn’t place it to a name or even a face. “And which one is believed to be injured?”

Crane answered, and Dean struggled to hear. “Meg Masters, Gloss Livingston, and Garth Fitzgerald. Livingston is the one that’s injured, something about stepping on a magical landmine that one of the Ravenclaws cooked up early on.” 

Dean’s stomach did a flip.  _ Garth is still alive.  _ He remembered Garth. They’d sat in the same compartment on the Hogwarts Express this year, and he was also Castiel’s friend. Maybe there was more to Castiel’s ‘good luck’ than he had thought. Meg Masters was a Gryffindor, and although he didn’t know her personally, he wasn’t surprised that she was still alive. She was tough, and everyone knew it. 

It suddenly occurred to Dean that if Meg, Gloss and Garth were the only ones left alive… everyone else was dead. Neville Longbottom, the Gryffindor fifth year that looked so scared the day of the Choosing, was dead.  _ He shouldn’t even have been in it, he’s a pureblood,  _ Dean thought angrily.  _ No one should be in it, but especially not him.  _

Romilda Vane would be dead too, then. He once again was thrown back to that day in his mind, made to watch her swing helplessly upside down while that Death Eater punished her for just being afraid.  _ Turns out she was right to be afraid.  _

His mood declined impossibly further, but he forced himself to get to his feet quietly and leave the voices behind him as he made his way to the Great Hall for dinner. 

He realized about halfway there that he never actually made it to the Owlery. He promised himself he’d go the next day; he was now very eager to get some dinner and seek the comfort of his very quiet, very empty dormitory. 

Dean opened the door to the Great Hall, wiping back a single tear that escaped for Neville, Romilda, Kevin Tran and all of the other tributes that had died. He didn’t bother looking around this time as he found his seat, waiting for his dinner to appear. 

 

_ Castiel _

 

When him and Rue had entered the Great Hall, he briefly wondered why the first thing he noticed was Dean sitting all alone. It wasn’t a new decoration like it usually was, it was Dean Winchester,  _ sitting all alone _ . He looked down at Rue and she nodded, moving to sit at a table with some other Hufflepuffs as he walked over to Dean’s table, sitting down across from him casually. “Hello, Dean.”

Dean didn’t look up, “Novak. Happy Christmas.” 

Castiel frowned slightly, but nodded. “Happy Christmas to you too, Dean. Are you okay? Besides… you know… being alone and stuff.”

Dean’s ears turned red, and he kept his eyes down. “If you came to rub it in, you can save it, alright? I’m fine bein’ alone.” 

He shook his head. “No, Dean. I didn’t come here to rub it in. There’s nothing  _ to _ rub in. Besides Rue, I’m alone too.” He cleared his throat quickly and looked to him. “Hey, uh, Dean?”

Dean flicked his eyes up to Castiel. “Garth’s alive. I…. I overheard some people talkin’ about the Games, and Garth’s alive. He’s your friend, right?”

Castiel’s eyes widened, sitting up a little straighter. “He uh- yeah, something like that. We weren’t best friends or anything, but I’m glad to know he’s alive. Thank you for telling me.” He paused, his mind travelling to Romilda Vane because of the way she made her exit. “Do you- do you know if Romilda’s alive? Romilda Vane?”

Dean shook his head slightly. “Meg Masters and Gloss Livingston are the only two alive besides Garth, and from what Crane was sayin’... Gloss ain’t gonna make it much longer either. Romilda’s gone.”

He closed his eyes, his body visibly tensing. “So your friend Neville - I’m sorry, Dean.”

Dean did that thing where he appeared to shrug with his mouth again, his shoulder jerking up slightly. “It’s the Games, right? Even if you win, you lose. They should make that their slogan.”

He tried to hide his smile but ultimately failed because Dean’s right, this was ridiculous. “Yeah, no kidding. Do you ever consider not coming back here? Over the summer, do you ever think about not coming back? I do but then I realized that I’d be more miserable at home. I wish there was a way we could…” he lowered his voice, “do  _ something. _ Speak to Professor Shurley, maybe he could talk to You-Know-Who.”

Dean shook his head. “Voldemort isn’t that scared of Shurley anymore, he made that pretty damn clear when he had his goons drag him out of the Choosing. Honestly, I don’t even know if Professor Shurley would care enough to do anything anyway. He’s never shown a whole lot of interest in trying to save any of us when we’re flipped upside down and dangled like fucking puppets before being lead to our fucking dea--” Dean suddenly stopped speaking, his harsh words clipped. He huffed, then looked down at his still-empty plate. “Sorry.” 

He shook his head. “No, Dean. Don’t apologize, you’re right. Everything you said is true, I wish more of us had the guts to say it.” He sipped his butterbeer and decided that Dean needed cheering up and maybe his present could do that. He pulled the wrapped box out of his robes and set it on the table. “I uh- I got you something. It’s nothing special… take it as an apology present for ruining the snowball game. Maybe it can be a Christmas gift too? I don’t know, I just-” he sighed, pushing the box towards him. “Just… here.”

Dean eyed him, almost suspiciously. He took the box, flipping it over in his hands. “You didn’t have to do that, I don’t need some apology gift just because you outsmarted me  _ literally  _ at my own game.” 

Castiel cracked a small smile as he nodded. “Yes, well, I learned that spell from Charms class, and you helped me with it.” He watched him, his leg bouncing under the table from nerves. “And I promise nothing’s going to jump out at you. I just - I figured…” he sighed.

“Whoa, jump out at me? I didn’t think anything was gonna jump out at me, but now that you said it…” Dean eyed the box warily, then unwrapped it to reveal the Sneakoscope. He ran his thumb over it with a peculiar expression on his face, and then looked up at Castiel. “How’d you know mine broke?”

He raised his eyebrows, clearing his throat. “Oh, uh… I didn’t actually, but I’m glad yours is broken now.”

“You really didn’t have to do this… but thank you.” Dean looked at him again, his eyes a little wide. “I didn’t-- I didn’t get you anything, I didn’t think you’d even want to see me.”

Castiel shook his head quickly. “No, it’s okay. I didn’t want you to get me anything. I uh- I did want to see you.” He licked his lips quickly and tilted his head. “Are you- what are you doing later?”

Dean was staring at Castiel’s mouth and must have caught himself doing it, because he sucked in a breath and dropped his eyes to the table again. “I was just gonna sit by the fire in the common room, unless Brutus is there. I’m still kind of cold from bein’ in the air all day, and as you so kindly pointed out… I’m pretty damn alone right now.” 

He smiled slightly and nodded. “If you don’t want to be alone… you could always join Rue and I. Newt gave the gift from the snowball fight to me, it had some firewhiskey and a few snacks in it. Rue and I were just going to hang out in the Hufflepuff common room. You’re uh, we’d love it if you joined us. Rue’s to0 young to drink anyways, and I certainly can’t drink the entire bottle myself.”

Dean bit his bottom lip, rolling it between his teeth before releasing it. He shrugged, saying “yeah, I guess I could come for a little bit. I should apologize though, I’m not exactly in the Christmas spirit.” 

It was Castiel’s turn to watch Dean’s mouth now, before he averted his eyes, nodding. “That’s alright, that’s what the firewhiskey is for.” He winked at Dean, finishing off his butterbeer, and finally beginning to eat.

Dean’s eyes widened again at the wink, and the tips of his ears reddened. He quickly reached forward to grab some food and started eating. “So, where’s everybody at? Did Hael go home then, is that why you’re forcin’ yourself to talk to me?” 

He rolled his eyes, swallowing his food before he spoke. “No, Dean. I mean yes, she did go home, but I’m not forcing myself to sit with you. I just…” he sighed, “I wanted to, okay?”

Dean nodded once after taking a moment to look at Cass like he could see right through him. “Okay, Novak. Well, you’ve got my undivided attention for one night only. Use it well, would ya?” 

Castiel smirked a little bit before he grinned. “Come on, then. The others are sitting over there at that table.”

Dean looked concerned suddenly. “Wait,  _ others _ , as in plural? I thought it was just Rue?!”

“Woah, Winchester, relax. Rue’s the only one that’s going to be with us later on, but there’s no point in sitting here alone, right? Unless.. Unless you just want to stay here?”

Dean studied him for a moment and then looked over at the table. He must have decided that the ensemble of people was acceptable, because he stood up and grabbed his plate. “This should be a riot.” 

Castiel stood as well, picking up his plate. He shrugged, leading Dean over to the table. When they got there, Castiel sat down beside Rue and gave the basic introduction in case anyone didn’t know who Dean Winchester was, but he’s  _ Dean Winchester _ , of course everyone already knew. Rue grinned and looked at Dean and Castiel. “I invited them to join us tonight! I hope that’s okay?”

Dean had sat across from Castiel again, and was now burning holes into him with his eyes. His words did not match his expression in the slightest. “Sure thing, Rue. The more the merrier, right?”

Castiel watched Dean and nudged him with his knee. “It’ll be fine, Dean.” He looked up, narrowing his eyes at the others. “You all better get your own alcohol, though.”

\------------------------------------------

_ Dean _

_ This is a horrible idea.  _ Dean was following Castiel, Rue and the others to the Hufflepuff common room.  _ Turn around and go back to your own. There’s too many people you don’t know, you’ve had a horrible fucking day, and you don’t even get along with Cass for more than ten minutes at a fucking time. Go back to where you belong.  _ His feet, however, weren’t obeying. He stood close to Cass as he walked.  _ Fine, just go long enough to get the damn firewhiskey, and then leave. No one said you had to stay.  _ He glanced sideways at Castiel.  _ On second thought, skip the firewhiskey altogether before you do something you won’t be able to talk your way out of.  _

“How much further is it?” 

Castiel shook his head but stopped with a grin. He turned to the six whiskey barrels that were in the shape of a triangle, tapping the one on the right, in the middle. A certain rhythm is heard as he taps, before it opens up. “We’re here.”

Dean frowned at it. “I gotta crawl through  _ that?”  _

“Yes.” He grinned and began to crawl through. 

He eyed the barrel, trying to gauge how much wiggle room he’d have in there. He wasn’t  _ horribly  _ claustrophobic, but he didn’t care for tight spaces and his shoulders were already quite broad. He waited until Castiel was through and crawled in after him. He smacked his head off the top of the barrel towards the end of it. “ _ Oof, ow.”  _ He made it through to the other side and stepped out. He looked around the room, his eyes taking in all sorts of details. 

“You guys really are plant geeks, huh.” 

Castiel shrugged a little bit, looking around the room as well. “I suppose… does your common room not look like this?”

He shook his head, turning in a slow circle. “Not even close, I mean… we’ve got chairs and a fireplace, sure… but our decorations are way different and our common room isn’t quite as…  _ round.  _ Or bright, for that matter. How the hell do you guys give the illusion of natural light in here?” 

This time, Rue furrowed her eyebrows. “What? It’s just- it’s light…”

Dean looked at her. “Yeah, no shit it’s light, but it looks like  _ sunlight,  _ not torch light or light from a bulb. You know what - nevermind, it doesn’t really matter.” He continued his examination of the room.

Castiel plopped down on one of the couches, reaching over to his bag. He pulled out the firewhiskey and some candy, setting it on the table. “Come sit, Dean.”

Dean turned back to Castiel and for some reason, he was nervous. He noticed the mistletoe hanging above the seat opposite Castiel, so he opted to sit next to him this time. Against his better judgement, he grabbed the firewhiskey. “Got any glasses or am I supposed to drink it straight from the bottle?”

“Here,” Annie Cresta appeared from the entrance. “I grabbed some.” She set them on the table and sat down opposite Castiel. 

Dean cleared his throat. “Watch out for the uhh… mistletoe. I hear it bites.” He was being sarcastic, but wasn’t quite sure that came across from the look on Annie’s face. “I know it doesn’t b-- nevermind.” He grabbed one of the glasses and poured himself a drink, taking a long sip and hissing at the burn.

Castiel grinned at him, tilting his head as he reached forward and poured himself a glass. He took a sip as well and then reached forward quickly, grabbing the bottle before Rue did. “No, none for you. You’re… how old? Fourteen?”  
Rue narrowed her eyes. “Yes, but Dean’s only fifteen! And you’re sixteen, technically you’re _both_ not allowed to be drinking.”

Dean couldn’t help himself as he took another swig. “Yeah, old enough to be put into a 

deathmatch in Purgatory, but not old enough to take the edge off once in awhile. Real fine system we’ve got goin’ on here.” 

Rue huffed and turned around to busy herself with something else. Castiel chuckled and quickly downed the rest of his glass as if it was nothing, pouring himself another one. “You want more?” He held the bottle out to Dean, who took it as Castiel grinned.

Dean drained his glass, dropping his head between his shoulders as he swallowed. He shook it off and refilled it. “This stuff packs a little more of a punch than muggle whiskey.”

He nodded in agreement and swung his legs up to rest on the table. “That’s what makes it so good.”

Dean didn’t think he had ever seen Castiel so…  _ relaxed  _ before. He felt some of the tension leave his own shoulders as the firewhiskey started to do its job. “Yeah, whatever. You fancy wizards and your fancy alcohol… I’d like to see you guys survive at a house party back where I’m from.” 

Castiel drained his glass again, pulling it through his teeth this time. He poured himself another one and then topped off Dean’s. “Cheers.”

Dean tilted his glass towards Castiel and then took another long drink. He leaned forward on the couch, looking at Annie. “So, where’d everyone else go?”

She squinted at him and leaned back. “As in…?”

_ Shit.  _ Dean was horrible with names, and he couldn’t for the life of him remember the names of the other two kids they had dinner with. “Uhh… the two dudes from dinner.”

“Oh,  _ them _ . They’re weird. They never socialize and they literally only leave their dorms when they have class and to get food. They usually bring the food right back to their dorms too,” Annie shrugged, pouring a small glass of firewhiskey, earning a glare from Castiel.

Dean noticed, and leaned over to nudge him, shoulder to shoulder. “Lighten up, she barely took any. You need to be drunk to be around me all of a sudden?” He smirked, and his eyes met Castiel’s. 

Castiel kept the eye contact, before his eyes flicked down, seemingly to Dean’s mouth. Annie cleared her throat as she stood up. “Alright, I’m gonna go… somewhere else. I’ll see you guys later…” she paused to smirk, “maybe.” 

Dean didn’t know or care what she meant by that, because  _ he’s still staring at my mouth.  _ He continued looking at Castiel as he said to Annie, “Yeah, it was nice to meet you. You have a…. lovely home.” 

She clicked her tongue as she nodded. “Right.” She left quickly after that, most of the room clearing out as well, other than Rue. 

“Rue, turn the radio up,” Castiel told her, still watching Dean.

Rue shifted her eyes over to them and raised her eyebrow, tilting her head at both their expressions. She stood and moved to the corner of the room, standing on a chair to reach the volume dial on the stereo. “Better?”  
Castiel didn’t answer, he just nodded and sipped his whiskey again.

Dean completely skipped the glass this time, picking up the bottle and drinking from it. He was a little too eager, however, because some of the firewhiskey escaped and dripped down his chin. He flicked over it with his thumb.  _ Space. I need space. He’s… too close. Or not close eno--  _ He cleared his throat, cutting himself off in mid-thought. “It’s great, Rue. At least you guys have decent taste in music.” He eyed Annie’s now empty chair, and moved to it. He relaxed now that there was some distance between them, and then leaned forward to pick through the candy on the table.

Castiel tried to hide his frown, but it didn’t work. He cleared his throat and looked away from Dean as Rue spoke. “I’m gonna go… check on our snowwoman Professor Trinket. I’ll be… I’ll be back,” she nodded, a small smile on her lips as she left.

Again, Dean barely noticed. He drank a little heavier. “So uhh… so much for a party, huh?”

Castiel didn’t answer him, instead he pulled out his wand. He pointed it at the bottle in Dean’s hand and whispered, “ _ Accio _ !” 

Dean cursed as the bottle flew out of his hand and landed in Cass’s. “That was mean.”

Castiel shrugged with the  _ tiniest _ smirk. “So is not sharing.”

“I wasn’t sharing because  _ you  _ only won this bottle cuz you glued me to the friggen ground.” 

“Oh, here we go again,” Castiel sighed, bringing the bottle to his lips as he drank. “I’m sorry, okay? I shouldn’t have…  _ cheated _ , or whatever you accused me of.”

“I believe I accused you of  _ outsmarting _ me.” He pulled out his own wand and pointed it at the fireplace. “ _ Incendio.”  _ The fire started and remained contained as Dean looked back to Castiel. “Who’s the one not sharing now?”

He pulled the bottle back enough to mumble, “take it from me, then.”

Dean furrowed his brows, then pointed his wand at the bottle. “ _ Mobiliarbus.”  _ The bottle lifted out of Cass’s hand and drifted back to Dean, who took a very satisfied sip. “Oh, did I forget to mention that one when Trinket asked me eighty friggen ways to move an object? My bad.”

Castiel shook his head with a grin. “She really likes you, huh? Probably because you’re the only one who  _ actually _ knows the answers.”

Dean shrugged, a small smirk forming on his face. “I think it’s just cuz I’m adorable.” 

“I agr-,” he stopped himself and instead whispered, “ _ Locomotor firewhiskey! _ ” He guided the bottle back to the table in front of him, reaching forward to pick it up. 

Dean sighed, leaning back in the chair and spreading out. “At least you guys get bigger chairs than we do, it was almost impossible to fit two people on the ones in the Gryffindor common room.” He closed his eyes, letting the feeling of the firewhiskey work its way through him.

Castiel  _ giggled. _ Not chuckled, not laughed, actually  _ giggled _ as he stood up. “Perhaps you- woah,” he grabbed onto the back of Dean’s chair.

Dean opened his eyes when he heard Cass talking so close, and found him half hovering over the side of his chair. “First of all, did you just friggen  _ giggle?  _ And second, you better sit down before you hurt yourself. I also think I should take that bottle back, just for uhh… safekeeping purposes.” He reached up and grabbed the bottle from Cass. 

It wasn’t hard to tell Castiel was quite…  _ intoxicated _ as the firewhiskey worked quickly. He didn’t fight on giving Dean the bottle back, instead he huffed. “But this song is  _ terrible _ .” He continued his way over to the stereo, holding onto various things for support.

Dean stood up, half expecting that he was going to need to catch Castiel when he fell on his ass. He stood next to the chair he was just in and waited. “Well hurry up then, I imagine whatever you put on is gonna suck too, so then  _ I’m  _ gonna need to change it.”

He frowned and genuinely looked offended, crossing his arms. “Fine, then. You pick something.”

Dean shrugged, walking over. He bumped Castiel gently as he passed him, then squinted at the stereo. He started flipping through stations, holding his tongue between his teeth as he listened for something good. 

Castiel nearly fell over and grabbed onto Dean’s bicep to steady himself, laughing. “Woah!”

Dean flexed out of instinct, and turned his head towards him. “No, no, if you fall while you’re grabbing onto me, I’m gonna fall too.” 

He grinned and held on tighter. “What, are you going to fall on top of me again?”

_ Too much firewhiskey. Too much sadness earlier. Too much closeness, too much… blue. His eyes are so… fucking… blue.  _ He clears his throat. “I think it’d be more like you pullin’ me down on top of you this time, but whatever you need to call it to justify it.” 

Castiel chuckled and let go of Dean’s arm, his hand probably lingering for way too long. He pulled his wand out and pointed it at the fireplace, “ _ Incendio duo. _ ” He smiled and sauntered over to the other side of the room, looking at some of the pictures that were hanging. 

_ Too much distance.  _ “What, my spell wasn’t good enough? I’d one-up you with  _ tria,  _ but I’m pretty sure I’d burn the whole damn place down. And I think I’ve hurled enough fireballs at you lately.”

Castiel turned to look at Dean, the fireplace illuminating him in just the right way. “I forgive you.”

“Oh, Cass, it’s cute you think I was apologizing.” Dean took a step towards him, looking around the room again but not really seeing much of anything. 

“I think you’re cute too,” he giggled, turning away from him.

Dean froze.  _ No, you’ve just had too much to drink. He didn’t say that; that didn’t just happen. Just pretend like it didn’t happen, cuz it didn’t friggen happen.  _ “So, uhh… how was the whole ‘sex with Hael’ thing?” 

Castiel tensed, his hands balling at his sides. “It didn’t- we didn’t have sex. We staged it.”

“Huh? Why?” Dean was expecting an entirely different answer, and was genuinely surprised to hear that. “But the… sex hair.”

He rolled his shoulders and looked to the ground, almost as if he was ashamed. “So Raphael would stop teasing me. He’s a real assbutt.”

Dean spurted a laugh. “Wait, wait… he’s a  _ what?” _

He huffed, frowning. “An assbutt.”

Dean grinned, walking closer to him. “Okay, whatever that is. Why was he teasing you, and why didn’t you tell me? I’d have kicked his ass a couple of times.”

He shrugged, his eyes still down. “Because I haven’t- I’ve never…” He swallowed hard, speaking slowly and carefully. “Because I’ve never… even kissed a girl.”

Dean closed the distance between them, taking another sip of firewhiskey. He set the bottle down on the table next to them. “Okay, so? That doesn’t seem like a reason to make fun of somebody. Have you kissed  _ anyone?” _

He shook his head slowly, but stayed silent.

Dean reached forward and took Castiel’s chin between his thumb and index finger, tilting his head up. “Hey, don’t let that…  _ assbutt  _ ever make you feel like you gotta do somethin’ you don’t wanna do, okay? Screw him. He’s probably never kissed a girl either. Who would even want to?”

Castiel shivered, flicking his eyes to Dean. “You did, with Lisa. How is she, by the way? Aren’t you two back together or something?”

Dean shook his head, his eyes watching the way Castiel’s lips moved when he spoke. He dropped his hand and turned around. “Nah, we uhhh… definitely aren’t.”

He tilted his head, breathing out slowly. “But I thought- you and her- the whole  _ helping _ her with something… thing, and the linking arms....”

Dean frowned as he turned back to him. “The wh-- oh, you mean that day I saw you at breakfast? That douche McClaggen got pissed off during Quidditch tryouts and tried to hit Sirius with a bludger. Let’s just say it hit me instead. Shattered my elbow. Madame Harvelle healed it just fine, but Lisa always over-exaggerates shit like that. She was checkin’ my arm to make sure I didn’t have any bones sticking out, cuz she needed my help to teach her how to play Quidditch. Don’t ask my why, but she tried out and  _ made  _ the damn team without knowing shit about how it’s played, and she didn’t wanna look like an asshole when practice started. I already knew she didn’t know how to play, and obviously I do know, so…. that’s all that was. I’ve barely spoken to her since.”

Castiel let out an audible sigh of relief, and then there was a sound. He turned towards it, Rue standing in the doorway, her arms crossed and clearing her throat. She nodded up at the ceiling above Dean and Castiel; there was now a piece of mistletoe hanging above them.

Dean looked from it to Rue to Cass, back to the mistletoe. “I didn’t put that there, this ain’t my house.” 

Castiel looked to where the mistletoe _used_ to be, then to Rue. “Did you move it?”  
Rue cleared her throat and shrugged. “Nope, I don’t know what you’re talking about. Oh, would you look at the time, it’s time for bed. Goodnight, Dean. Night, Cass.” She turned and left quickly.

“Wait, you don’t need to -- aaand she’s gone.” Dean shifted on his feet, looking at Cass again. “You can just… move, you know. If you want. I just can’t really get around you, so.” He dropped his eyes, his stomach twisting and his brain sort of fuzzy. “You don’t have to, I’m just… you can just…”

Castiel moved quickly, tilting Dean’s chin up and pressing his own lips to Dean’s, his eyes closing. 

Dean’s eyes got  _ very  _ wide, and he stood frozen there for a second, not moving one way or the other. He was vaguely aware that this was supposedly Castiel’s first kiss.  _ Ah, to hell with it, can always blame it on the bottle again, right?  _ He brought his hands up to Castiel’s face, and kissed him back.

 

_ Castiel _

Castiel was ridiculously tense, until he felt Dean’s hands on the side of his face. His body relaxed, keeping his lips on Dean’s, lingering for a moment before he pulled back. He rubbed his sweaty palms on his pants, opening his eyes and keeping them down.

Dean’s eyes opened slowly. “Uhh… I don’t entirely know if that was a good first impression, maybe we should try it again. Y'know, since it was your first one and everything, I just think it should be…. Jesus, this is the lamest excuse I’ve  _ ever  _ tried to come up with.” 

_ Just kiss him again. Shut him up, and kiss him.  _ He slowly moved his lips to Dean’s again, his hand sliding up Dean’s chest. 

Dean wrapped an arm around Cass’s waist, his palm settling on his lower back. His other hand went right back to his face, and he used both to pull him in closer. 

Castiel gripped onto Dean’s shirt, his eyes closing again as he relaxed. He felt…  _ safe _ , like there was no where else he belonged at this point in time. He hummed softly into the kiss, walking backwards.

Dean followed him, not breaking the kiss. The hand on his back slid up under his shirt to bare skin, and Dean’s tongue flicked out across his teeth.

He shivered and opened his eyes, falling back on the couch, pulling Dean with him. “Dean-,” he breathed out, his hands on Dean’s sides.

Dean straddled Castiel, his hands reaching under the front of Cass’s shirt and sliding them up. He whispered, “Shhh, don’t talk either one of us outta this,  _ please. _ ”

He gasped as he nodded quickly, but spoke slowly and quietly. “Kiss me again, then.”

Dean’s mouth found his in a hurry, and he bit Castiel’s lower lip and pulled it back. He pulled his hands back and started removing the flannel he was wearing.

Castiel watched him, trying to sit up to pull his own robes off, but not being able to.

“Damnit.” Dean slid off of Cass, standing up and pulling him with him. He kissed him again as he pushed Castiel’s robes off of his shoulders and started lifting the shirt underneath them off, too. 

Castiel was very glad Dean was leading him in this because Castiel had no idea what to do, but what he did know was the he  _ wanted _ this, and he thought he had for a long time. He pushed the flannel off Dean’s shoulders in return, his hands finding Dean’s sides again.

Dean pulled off the undershirt he had beneath the flannel, grabbing Castiel’s hand and placing it on his chest. He closed his eyes, almost as if he hadn’t been touched in a very long time. He leaned in and kissed him again, breathing his name against his lips in probably the neediest sound Dean has  _ ever _ made in his entire life.

Castiel kept his hand right where Dean placed it, his other hand finding Dean’s free one, interlocking their fingers. He kissed Dean back, pulling back enough to whisper, “I’m here, Dean. You’re not alone.”

Dean looked at Castiel, his eyes flicking between his. “Yeah, till break is over and everyone comes back and we can’t be in the same room with each other for more than five seconds without arguing.” 

Castiel shook his head, almost begging at this point. “It doesn’t have to be like that, Dean. You- I-...” He stopped, his hand moving from Dean’s chest to his cheek, brushing his thumb under his eye. “ _ Please. _ ”

Dean closed his eyes and breathed out shakily. “Cass, I can’t, okay? My dad- you don’t understand, last time -- it was  _ so..”  _ He made a strangled little noise and backed away from Cass, grabbing his flannel but not his undershirt. “I gotta go, I’m… _ jesus, _ I’m sorry. I’m so damn sorry.” Dean almost ran to the barrel that would take him out of the Hufflepuff common room, crawling through it quickly and disappearing back into the castle.

Castiel couldn’t bring himself to move, his eyes locked on the barrel, hoping and praying to whatever greater force or power that was out there that Dean would turn around and change his mind and he’d come back. 

After a few moments of just standing there, Castiel realized that Dean wasn’t going to change his mind. His stomach sank, and…  _ am I crying? _ He brought a hand to his face and sure enough it was wet. He let out a deep breath and wiped his eyes with his robes, not bothering to put them back on. He pulled his undershirt on, though, wondering how the  _ hell _ …. _ Hell,  _ Castiel didn’t even know what his thoughts were at the moment. He  _ finally _ moved, making his way over to the stereo to turn it off, tuning into what was playing;  _ Lonely is the Night - Billy Squier. A classic _ . He clenched his jaw and turned it off quickly and became angry. He looked around for his wand, finding it on the couch.  _ It must’ve fallen out of my robes when-- _

He stopped himself from finishing that thought and grabbed his wand, pointing it at the stereo. “ _ Expulso!”  _ He shouted the spell, probably too loudly as the stereo blew up into pieces. He let out a deep breath and shoved his wand into his pocket. He noticed Dean’s undershirt on the ground, so he bent down to pick it up. He closed his eyes and fought back the tears, leaving the common room and wanting nothing more than to hide himself from the world, but mainly Dean.

 

_ Dean _

Dean’s mind was a mess when he scrambled out of the Hufflepuff common room and half ran towards his own. He had been so close...  _ so close  _ to giving in. He had him, had  _ Cass  _ in his arms, was kissing him, was listening to him practically beg him not to stop.  _ Why the fuck did you stop?  _ But the memory of the aftermath of that spin-the-bottle game reminded him  _ exactly  _ why he stopped. His dad wasn’t normally violent… mean, sure… but it was only when Dean did something  _ really  _ wrong that he’d find himself on the business end of a belt. Sometimes, if Sammy really pissed their dad off, Dean took the brunt of that too. He prefered it that way; would even ask for it. Anything so he didn’t have to listen to Sam try to explain bruises and welts that clearly didn’t come from bumping into doors or tumbling down a few stairs. 

Even now, it wasn’t necessarily the thought of the pain that stopped him. He already knew enough to know that being with Cass like that would feel good enough that any subsequent pain wouldn’t matter. No, it wasn’t the pain. It was the disappointment. Dean had looked up to his dad for as long as he could remember. He wasn’t always mad at Dean… sometimes he was a pretty cool dad. He taught him about guns and survival and even took him to a baseball game once. But the disappointment on his dad’s face when he found out his first born son might not be straight was… 

Dean shivered.  _ No. I don’t care how good it felt. I don’t care how Castiel Novak’s skin _

_ felt under my fingertips. I don’t care how fucking hot the sounds he was making were, or how much I enjoyed swallowing them. I don’t care how great it was to be touched again.  _ Whether Dean wanted to admit it or not, that last part had been what really got to him. It had been such a long time since anyone touched Dean like he was someone who mattered. Even with Lisa, it was never like that. They’d fooled around a couple of times, but it was never…  _ intimate.  _ Dean didn’t know a whole lot about intimacy, but he was absolutely certain they’d have gotten there if he hadn’t run away like an asshole.  _ No, not an asshole,  _ he mentally corrected himself.  _ It’s better this way, I could never be with him, couldn’t even think about it. Can’t think about it. Won’t think about it.  _ Human contact is something you don’t even know you need until you don’t have it anymore. Until you  _ couldn’t  _ have it anymore; couldn’t do anything but crave it and miss it and beg it to come back. 

But the only thing Dean was begging for right then was a chance to get out of his own head. To get Castiel Novak out of his head, to be more accurate. To get his stupid blue eyes and his dumb sex hair and his ridiculously inexperienced and needy lips out of his head. 

He was failing. 

 

_ Castiel _

 

Castiel tossed his robes to the ground when he made it back to his empty dormitory room and fell face first onto his bed. He closed his eyes and buried his face into the pillow.  _ You’re an idiot, Cass. Why the hell would Dean ever even  _ **_consider_ ** _ being with you? You’re nothing to him, all you are is the guy that bumps into him 24/7.  _ He rolled onto his back and stared up at the ceiling, not being able to shake the feeling of how  _ right _ it felt; Dean’s arms wrapped around him, their lips pressed together… Castiel had never felt anything like that before. Clearly for Dean, though, it was all wrong.  _ He probably fucking hates me now, just when I thought things were getting better. I shouldn’t have fucking kissed him, I should’ve just walked away.  _ He sat up and tossed the pillow across the room, his eyes wide.  _ Holy shit, I  _ **_am_ ** _ gay.  _

Castiel always had the feeling- he definitely knew that he was attracted to men as well, he just always figured he hadn’t found a woman who interested him, but tonight confirmed it.  _ Tonight confirms that I- Castiel Novak- am gay.  _ He let out a deep breath, it felt good to finally say it out loud and even come to terms with it.  _ Accept _ it. 

As Castiel sat there and thought, something else crossed his mind.  _ He said ‘last time’. ‘Last time his dad…’ No, there’s no way. He must’ve meant last time with a  _ **_woman._ ** Castiel slid off the bed and paced the room, his eyes closing. He didn’t want to think about what would happen when Raphael found out.  _ Maybe Dean and Raphael are secretly working together. Maybe this was all part of one of Raphael’s stupid plans and I- I fell into the trap because of how good it felt. How good Dean’s hand all over my skin felt, how good I felt in his arms, how good his lips felt on mine… _ Castiel was drawn from his thoughts when he realized his fingers were on his lips. He quickly dropped his hand and pulled his robes back on, deciding he wasn’t going to be able to sleep tonight.

He left the dormitory and was dressed in more outside-like gear, his hands shoved in his pockets. He made his way out to the empty Quidditch field and hopped on the first broom he could find, kicking off the ground. He flew around in slow circles, a mindless task which was necessary at the moment because Castiel’s mind was anywhere  _ but _ on the broom he was flying. 

_ How the hell am I supposed to face Dean now? I can skip every upcoming Potion’s class and still pass, right? Charms too? _

He lowered his broom to the ground and tossed it aside, finding a hallway that was far enough away from everything else that no one should find him. He slid down against the wall, his head in his hands.

He just needed to think.


	8. Lonely Is The Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things take a turn for the Dark Arts.

_ Dean _

To say that Dean had been even grumpier than usual would be an understatement. The castle grounds were thawing out as Spring rolled in, and Dean had been avoiding absolutely everyone. Sam and Sirius had given up trying to figure out what happened over Christmas a couple of months ago, and Dean was grateful for it. He had no idea how he’d explain to his brother or his best friend that he’d nearly  _ gone there  _ with a guy, let alone that he chickened out and ran away. 

He hadn’t seen much of Castiel since that night. Cass had skipped their next three lessons together, and when he finally showed up again he sat as far away as possible from Dean. Dean didn’t push him; didn’t ask to talk to him. Their agreement to help each other with Potions and Charms disintegrated, and with it went any chance Dean had of passing his Potions O.W.L. 

He knew he’d pushed Cass too far that night, and wouldn’t disrespect him by asking him to pretend like it didn’t happen just so Dean could get something other than a T on his exam. It was with that resolve in mind that Dean started spending an ungodly amount of time in the library. It wasn’t a place Dean was overly comfortable with, but this time, it was his mom he was afraid of disappointing. 

Academics came easy to Sam. He didn’t even need to study most of the time, he just retained what he was told like a sponge. A giant, moosey sponge. Dean was the opposite, if he didn’t get hands-on experience with it, there was no way he was going to remember. 

This fact was proven over and over again as he studied theories and ingredients lists for the different potions he would need to know for his O.W.L., and failed miserably at actually producing them. He had a hard time transferring what he saw on paper to the cauldron in front of him. He needed to see someone do it; to walk through the steps with someone that knew what they were doing before he’d feel confident enough to do it on his own with any level of success.

He walked into the library and sat at the table in the corner he’d come to think of as his. He wandered the aisles, grabbing the occasional book off the shelf until he had a stack in his hands so high he could barely see around it, and then he made his way back to the table. He dropped the books with a  _ thump,  _ and sat down. He picked one off the top of the stack and opened to a random page.  _ Maybe if I look at something different, the stuff I’m actually supposed to be learning will start to make sense.  _ He studied the words, but they quickly became just a jumble of letters and numbers, mocking him from their yellowed page. He groaned, pushing the book away from him and putting his head in his hands. 

He rubbed his temples, lost in thought until he was distracted by the sound of the library doors opening. He turned his head to see who it was, thinking maybe it was Sirius or Newt or someone he could ask for help. 

His stomach twisted, because it wasn’t help at all. It was Cass. 

 

_ Castiel _

 

Castiel had stopped showing up to the majority of classes, he went once a week…  _ maybe _ . He just didn’t want to face anyone. Not Hael, not Newt, not Charlie, not even Rue. He liked to hide in the safety of his dorm room, away from Raphael’s teasing and the possibility of seeing Dean.

They’d obviously seen each other since, it was almost Spring now and Christmas was a long time ago, but Castiel could still relive the day like it was yesterday. His grades were slipping in school and he couldn’t afford to fail any classes, even though everyone was constantly reassuring him of how talented he was. 

The library doors shut behind him as he walked over to section containing books on Charms. He couldn’t remember if it was  _ Wingardium Levi-O-sa,  _ or  _ Wingardium Levio-SA.  _ Either way, he needed to figure that and  _ many  _ other questions out. 

He grabbed a few that looked helpful and sat down at a random table close to the back corner of the room, figuring the further away from the door he sat, the less he’d have to interact with people.

He couldn’t have been more wrong. He looked up briefly and noticed Dean Winchester sitting a few tables in front of him, opposite Castiel. He looked down quickly and opened his book, pretending like it was the most interesting thing in the world. He knew this would happen eventually, that there would be a time when Castiel and Dean were alone together again and Castiel was just glad it was somewhere public. He cleared his throat loud enough that Dean could probably hear him and flipped a page in his book.

If Dean did hear him, he didn’t look up. His eyebrows were furrowed in what could have been concentration, but his eyes weren’t moving across the page. He definitely wasn’t reading whatever it was he was looking at, and his jaw was clenched. 

Castiel tapped his fingers on the table, his leg bouncing under the table. He flipped the pages in the book faster now, for some reason wanting to leave the library as quickly as possible. 

Eventually he found the answer to one of his questions and grabbed his quill, scribbling the answer down. He closed that book and pushed it aside, opening another one. His eyes drifted to Dean again, watching him.

Dean got to his feet in a hurry, his knee knocking loudly against the table. He made an  _ oof  _ noise and then disappeared into one of the rows of books. 

Castiel watched Dean go and then laughed quietly because it was nice to know that Dean felt as awkward about it as he did. He flipped through the second book, sighing in frustration when he discovered it contained none of the information he needed. 

 

_ Dean _

 

He heard that laugh. It made him ache in ways he didn’t want to think about. He narrowed his eyes at the books on the shelf in front of him.  _ Just leave. Just turn around and grab your shit and go. Nothin’ good is gonna come from this, and you’re not gonna get another thing done while he’s here. Can’t even remember a damn thing about the page you were just staring at. What book was it even in?  _

He knew Castiel would know the answer to his Potions questions, and he was incredibly tempted to ask him. He told himself it was for the sake of his grade, but somewhere deep down he knew he was just looking for an excuse to talk to him again. He was going to fail Potions anyway, it was too late in the school year to salvage it. But he reminded himself that he was staying away as much for Cass’s good as he was his own.  _ He deserves somebody that can actually be with him. Someone that ain’t afraid of it. Someone that ain’t too damn broken to be happy.  _

His mind wandered to that first Potions lesson after he and Lisa had split, and how easy it had been to accept Castiel’s help back then. His feet were moving before he knew what he was doing, and suddenly he was in front of Castiel’s table, leaning over it and gripping the edge. “How do you know when you’ve added enough of a certain ingredient? How fast do you add it? I don’t get it, I know the colour is supposed to change but will it matter if you wait too long? What happens if you add too many?”

Castiel looked up at Dean slowly. “Hi, Dean. I’m fine, how are you?”

Dean blinked.  _ Shit.  _ “Uhh, ‘m great. You? Wait, no… you already answered that. Didn’t you? No, don’t… you said you were fine. How many damn porcupine quills?” 

“Porcupine quills for which potion?” Castiel seemed calm, but his leg was still visibly bouncing under the table.

“Any of ‘em. All of ‘em. That one we did, the euphoria crap? You added ingredients until the potion changed colour, right? I remember that. But how did you know when you had enough, how fast did the colour change? How fast do I need to add the quills?” He spoke quickly, as if afraid he wouldn’t have time to get all of the words out. 

“Until it turned blue, Dean. Remember you were stirring, I was adding them? We stopped when it turned blue… again.”

“Yeah, like your --” Dean huffed. “I know what colour it turned. That’s not what I’m asking. I’m saying… say the potion needs 8 quills before it’ll turn the colour you need it to, but you don’t know it needs 8. Will it just magically turn blue the second you add the eighth one or do you need to go slow between each one, just in case it only needs five?”

He nodded. “You add one and then you stir. Add one, stir. You’ll know when it’s the right colour when it’s the colour of my eyes. You can use them as a reference, if it helps.”

“What about when I need it to turn purple, or the colour of fucking sunshine? You’re not helping.” Dean frowned, but was now pointedly avoiding eye contact. 

“I- I’m sorry, Dean. If you do the add and then stir method, you’ll reach your colour eventually. Keep track of how many you add and write it down so you have it available next time,” Castiel spoke quieter, rubbing his palms on his pants.

“Okay, but what about the potions where stirring is bad? Or you don’t stir after a certain ingredient, you just wait?” He shook his head quickly. “Y’know what, nevermind. I’m sorry I bugged you, I’m gonna fail anyway. This shit just doesn’t make sense to me.” 

Castiel frowned, watching him. “Do you- I mean I can… I can help you study, if you’d like. I’m trying to study for Charms, we could help each other.” He lowered his voice and mumbled, “is it  _ Levi-O-sa,  _ or  _ Levio-SA?” _

He smirked. “It’s ‘OH-sah,’ kinda like the sounds you were making --” Dean clenched his jaw quickly, his frown returning. 

Castiel closed his eyes for a moment, before opening them again. “Dean, I-,” he fell silent for a moment. “I’m sorry about Christmas.”

_ Sorry? He’s sorry? For fucking what?  _ “For what? I’m the one that should be sorry, but either way… it doesn’t change a damn thing. Good luck with your Charms.” 

“Okay, Dean. Good luck to you too.” Castiel stood up and grabbed his bag, leaving his opened Charms book on the table. He brushed past Dean and left the library.

_ Fuckin’ great. _

 

\-----------------------------

Dean made his way to the third floor corridor and stopped outside of the Dark Arts classroom. He turned to Sirius, raising his eyebrows. “You ready for this? Crane told us to prepare ourselves, which is never a good sign. Last time he said that, we all nearly burned to death because of that fiendfyre.”

Sirius frowned. “You’d think he’d have bothered to teach us the countercharm first. Let’s hope he learned from  _ that  _ little mistake at least.” He shrugged then, as Dean turned to look for James and Remus. “Either way, I’m sure it will be an appropriate level of horrible.”

Dean shivered as he looked around the corridor. “Did it get like… way friggen colder or is it just me?”

“Nope, it’s not just you. I thought winter was almost over.” Sirius pulled open the door and walked in, and after a final glance around the corridor, Dean followed.

Dean barely made it three steps before he ran smack into Sirius, who had stopped dead and was reaching wildly behind him for Dean. Sirius was tall; roughly the same height and size as Dean himself, so it was difficult to see around him. He didn’t need to, though. The sudden and complete lack of all happiness and warmth was enough to tell him what he needed to know. Professor Crane had brought a _ dementor _ to class. 

He could hear it’s horrid, ragged breathing before he even laid eyes on it. He couldn’t bring himself to move, despite the fact that Sirius was now trying to push him back out the door. “Nope, Dean, turn around, we need to run. This isn’t class, it’s fucking Azkaban.” 

Dean vaguely registered Sirius saying something about the wizarding prison, but the other boy’s movements had cleared a line of sight between Dean and the dementor. He locked eyes with it.  _ Wait, does it even have eyes?  _ He searched under the dark hood, but all he caught a glimpse of was the faint outline of a terrifying mouth that Dean knew he never wanted to see up close. 

He spiraled quickly. Dementors, by nature, fed off of happiness. Dean was running short on that these days, so it didn’t take long before he no longer remembered what happiness even was. Professor Crane was shouting at them from somewhere to his left, but the exact words were lost to him. He was on his knees, he knew that much. He wasn’t sure when he got there or why, but he felt Sirius’s hands on him, hauling him back to his feet. “Dean, please, you have to move. You  _ have  _ to, he’s threatening to feed us to that fucking thing if we’re not in our seats in the next 30 seconds.” 

Dean’s feet moved of their own accord, and he felt a sharp pain in his back when he was shoved into his seat roughly by Sirius. The pain didn’t matter.  _ Nothing matters. I can’t do anything right. My own dad can’t stand to look at me. My mom’s given up on me. Sammy wouldn’t notice if I jumped off a bridge right now. I hurt Cass. I’ll never pass my exams. I should have just volunteered for the Choosing, I would have saved a lot of people a lot of trouble. They’d be happier if I was gone; not around to --  _

“ _ Sectumsempra!”  _ The sound of the curse jolted Dean enough that he started to pay attention to where he was again. He’d wished he hadn’t though, because he was looking at a startled girl in red and black robes that --  _ No, those are yellow and black… and covered in red. Covered in… blood.  _ He heard Prim Everdeen’s scream, and everything clicked into place. He forgot about the soul-sucking Dementor and stood quickly, pointing his wand at Prim as he walked to where she’d collapsed. “ _ Vulnera Sanentur.”  _ The incantation came out almost like a song on his tongue, and the bleeding slowed from the giant, impossibly deep gashes across her chest.  _ Vulnera Sanentur.”  _ His voice was soft but confident, the desperate need to help the girl in front of him overpowering anything he might have been feeling from the Dementor. He watched as the wounds started to heal, but it wasn’t enough. She was whimpering in pain, her two hands clasped tightly around Dean’s free one. “Please….” 

“ _ Vulnera Sanentur.”  _ With one final attempt, the wounds stitched themselves closed. He let out a breath, his body shaking as he pulled her to her feet. “Go to Madam Harvelle… ask for dittany.” That was all Dean could manage to get out before Remus came and got her. 

“I’ll take her, Dean. I’m sorry. I was unaware of what the spell would do when Professor Crane told me to cast it.” Remus didn’t wait for a response as he pulled Prim out of the room. 

Dean turned to Professor Crane, who was smirking. “Looks like I don’t need to teach you the counterjinx. It’s a shame, it’s always more fun when they beg me to save them.” 

Dean’s vision went red, and he was suddenly being held back by several pairs of hands, his anger blasting through the despair from the Dementor. “You’re sick, you know that?!” he bellowed at Crane, shaking violently now. “She’s just a kid, does it make you feel good to hurt kids, you sick fuck? Is that what gets you off?” Sirius and the others continued to try to pull him back, but Dean wasn’t finished. “I’d tell you to pick on someone your own size, but good luck finding another person as fuckin twisted and pathetic as y--” With a flick of Professor Crane’s wand, Dean was on the ground. 

He was screaming, he was sure of it. But whether any sound was actually coming out, he couldn’t tell. It was pain. Blinding, horrible pain, shattering his bones and ripping him apart from the inside. He couldn’t breathe. He didn’t  _ want  _ to breathe, he wanted to die. He wanted it to end,  _ god,  _ how he was begging for it to end. Just when he was sure his mind would split in two from the intensity, it stopped. He laid in a heap on the floor, his face stained with tears. 

“This, class, was an excellent example of what happens when mudbloods forget their place in this world. Let that be a reminder to all of you. Class dismissed.”

 

\-----------------------------------

Dean woke up a few hours later in the Hospital Wing, a very concerned and frazzled Madam Harvelle fussing over him. “Eat, it’ll help.” He sat up slightly to see her shoving a large chocolate candy bar in his face. 

He tried to shove it away. “Don’t want it.” She persisted, giving him a very mom-like look. He took it, biting off the corner. As he chewed, he could feel some of the warmth return to his body. “Whoa, what’s in this stuff?” 

“Chocolate, Mr. Winchester. Chocolate. It’s good for more than just cookies. The boys who brought you down here said you ran into a Dementor? How’d a thing like that get onto the castle grounds?”

“Crane.” Dean continued eating, feeling his strength returning. “Still don’t understand what chocolate’s got to do with it.” 

Madam Harvelle smiled at him. “I don’t know why, but I know that it works. It’s about the only thing that works.” 

Dean just nodded and kept eating.

Madam Harvelle cleared her throat as she sat in the chair beside Dean’s bed. “Crane brought a Dementor in? Why?”

Dean shrugged, not looking at her. “Beats me, I didn’t really hear him say a single word till the end.” 

She nodded and watched him. “Your friends said you had tears streaming down your face. Dementor’s can  _ seriously _ mess people up.” 

Dean stopped chewing, looking at the rest of the chocolate bar. “He did somethin’ else to me, I don’t know what it was. I wasn’t cryin’ because the Dementor made me sad, I…” He trailed off and shook his head. “Nevermind.”

She folded her hands and offered a gentle smile. “You can talk to me, Dean. I’m not going to tell anyone.”

He shook his head again. “Nothin’ to talk about, you heard it. I cried. End of story.” 

“Why did you cry? What were you thinking about?”

“I wasn’t  _ thinking  _ about anything. He did some kind of a spell, it started with a C, I think. It hurt. I cried. The whole world saw it. Can we drop this now?” He finished the rest of his chocolate and laid down.

Prim spoke up from the bed beside him. “You saved me, though. I don’t really care if you were crying, you still managed to save me. Thank you, Dean.”

He glanced over at her. “You gonna be okay? Those were some nasty cuts.” 

She nodded. “I will be, thanks to you. Had you not healed me, I would’ve bled out and died right there in front of Crane.” She swallowed hard. “I don’t think he had any intention of saving me.”

“Honestly, I don’t think he did either. I kinda think that might be why he brought the

Dementor in. To distract everyone from what he was doin’.” He looks at Madame Harvelle. “You give her chocolate too? I feel bad I ate all of mine now, I would have shared if I’d have known she was still here.” 

Prim smiled at him. “I had some, Dean. We’ve been here for a while, at least three or four hours.”

He frowned, looking around. “That long?”

She nodded, sitting up straighter in her bed. “Yes. Sirius was here- I think that’s his name. He told me to tell you that he stopped by.”

He dropped his eyes to the bed. “Can I just… stay here tonight? I know that probably won’t help the whole ‘Dean cried’ thing, but I just…” he trailed off, then looked up hopefully at Madam Harvelle.

Madam Harvelle watched him, but nodded. “If you wish, Dean. You’re more than welcome to stay here.”

He nodded, then slid down in the bed. “Thanks. I’ll be out of your hair in the morning, I’ve got Quidditch.” 

“There’s no rush, Dean. Take your time,” she stated softly with a smile

He tried to smile in response, but he felt like he’d been hit head on by the Hogwarts Express. Not physically… physically, he appeared to be fine. After the pain of whatever that spell was, he’d expected to see his body in shreds. He didn’t even think Madam Harvelle could undo that much damage in just a couple of hours, so he assumed whatever was done to him must have been in his head. 

It clicked, and sure enough, it fit the memory.  _ Crucio, that bastard used an Unforgivable Curse on me.  _ It explained a great deal, at least. Why he’d cried, why he wasn’t sure he’d actually been making noise as he was screaming. That pain was all imagined. He let out a breath and closed his eyes, chasing sleep that ultimately was never going to come. 

 

_ Castiel _

All Castiel had heard for the past day was ‘Dean Winchester, The Boy Who Cried’, and for the longest time he wasn’t aware what that meant, until some other Gryffindors explained it. 

“Dean was over-reacting,” they had said. “He wasn’t even in pain.”

But Cass, he knew that wasn’t correct. He knew something was wrong with that, because Dean never showed emotion. So for something to make him  _ sob _ the way people were explaining it, he just knew something was wrong. 

He made his way to the hospital wing with two butterbeers in his hands, figuring Dean might want some company. He wasn’t sure if he was the one Dean would want to see, but he figured it couldn’t hurt. He reached the doors to the wing, pausing when he heard talking.

“It’s over, they’ll be making the official announcement once she’s been cleaned up.” Castiel recognized the voice of Professor Crane. “I’m surprised it was her. There were a few purebloods in the running and even a vampire, and yet a mudblood still won. Astonishing.” 

A second voice answered him. “Not really, the purebloods that were picked were morons. And the werewolf was still a pup… it was a miracle he made it as far as he did, really. Shame about his parents, though. The Fitzgerald’s are good people, I know they were looking forward to getting their son back.” This was the voice of Professor Amara, Castiel’s History of Magic teacher. 

Castiel’s eyes widened as he flattened out against the wall and swallowed hard.  _ Garth died. The game’s are over? Meg Masters… she won?  _ He waited until he heard the voices disappear, before quickly bursting into the area Dean was in.

 

_ Dean _

Dean opened his eyes and saw Castiel, looking…  _ what?  _ Dean sat up quickly. “Cass, what happened?’ 

Castiel sounded as if he had just run a marathon. “I- the games- over- Garth Fitzgerald- Meg Masters- she… she  _ won _ !”

Dean took a moment to let that sink in.  _ If Meg won, that means Garth is dead. Or trapped. Or fed to that giant snake.  _ He looked up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. “Cass, I’m… shit, I’m sorry. Come here.” He patted the spot next to him on the bed. 

Castiel was shaking, probably from adrenaline and fear, but he moved and sat down beside Dean, closing his eyes. “I-  I came to see if you were okay. Are you?”

Dean shrugged, then rubbed Castiel’s back lightly. “I’m fine.” 

He breathed out shakily and sort of awkwardly leaned into Dean’s side. “Good, I’m glad. I was worried about you. I- I  _ intended  _ to bring butterbeer, but I must’ve dropped it when I heard the news.”

Dean clicked his tongue. “Turns out I prefer Firewhiskey anyway.”  _ Damnit, why do you do that? Just leave the poor guy alone already.  _

He actually managed to smile, looking over at him. “Me too. I think good things happen when I drink firewhiskey.”

Dean shifted and slightly pulled back, his hand now sort of resting half on Cass’s lower back and half on the bed. “Yeah. So Meg, huh? Bet her folks are happy.” 

Castiel frowned, but nodded once. “Yes, I suppose. Though, it isn’t like they’ll ever get their daughter back.”

“Maybe not, but she’s alive, which is a lot more than eleven other sets of parents can say right about now.” 

Castiel stayed quiet and then shook his head. “No, I think I’d rather die. I wouldn’t want to spend the rest of my life being You-Know-Who’s… well, bitch, essentially.”

Dean would laugh, but that’s about to become a reality for Meg Masters, and that isn’t very funny at all. “Yeah, me too. I’d rather die than go to the Games period. Honestly, I think if I ever do get picked, I’m just gonna find a way to end it. I won’t kill anyone else, or at least I don’t want to, and I don’t want anyone else livin’ with my death on their conscience.” 

“Me too, Dean. Fuck this school, honestly. It’s a joke. This entire ‘witchcraft and wizardry’ thing is a joke. Being sorted into a House is a joke. I-,” he sighed. “Sorry, I didn’t… no, actually I  _ did _ mean that. I hope Voldemort hears me, maybe he’ll take me instead of Meg.”

Dean frowned at Cass. “Don’t say that.”

“Yeah? And why not?” He sat up fully and then stood. “I’m not wrong.”

Dean narrowed his eyes, standing as well. “You’re wrong to think he should take you instead. And you know what, yeah, it’s all kind of a joke… but at least it can be funny sometimes.” He pointed his wand at the water goblet next to his bed, and said, “ _ Lapifors!” _

The goblet turned into a rabbit, which hopped down from the table to the bed. Dean’s mouth curled slightly. It wasn’t quite a smile, but it was the best he could do at the moment.

At the sight of the rabbit, Castiel raised his eyebrow, a small smile making its way onto his face. He blinked at watched the rabbit, looking to Dean. “Did you just turn that water goblet into a rabbit?”

“Yep, and I don’t even need  _ fumos  _ to make a daring escape, cuz I did it on purpose.” Dean watched the rabbit, noticing a little too late that he hadn’t put any pants on this morning.

Castiel looked at Dean, and then down towards the ground. He cleared his throat but doesn’t say anything, looking back up at him. “Are you coming to Charms class?”

“What, Monday? Yeah, I’ve got a match this afternoon, so I’ll be leaving here soon.” He scratched the back of his head, wondering if he should do something about the pants situation or just keep ignoring it. “You comin’ to watch?”

He licked his bottom lip but nodded. “Yes, I’ll be there. I promised Rue I’d go with her, she wants to meet her friend there.”

“We win this one, we’re in the Finals.” He fidgeted with the bottom of his shirt. “What uhh… what are they sayin’? About what happened in Dark Arts, I mean.” He cleared his throat, then clarified. “About me.” 

Castiel frowned and looked to the ground. “Well, uh, you know… it doesn’t really matter, right?”

_ It’s bad, then. Probably worse than Madame Harvelle let on.  _ “Yeah, you’re right. I’ll be on a broom soon with a bat in my hand... they can talk all they want.” 

“Exactly,” Castiel spoke, letting out a breath of relief. “You’ll kick all their asses.”

Dean dropped his eyes; he was pretty sure that Cass thinking he couldn’t handle what the others were saying was probably  _ worse  _ than what the others were saying, but Dean’s mood had nowhere to go but up. He’d hit rock bottom during that class, and he wasn’t kidding - soon he’d be back in the air, taking out some of his frustrations on bludgers. “Yeah, course I will. I’ll uhh… I’ll see you out there then.” 

Castiel nodded, then leaned forward like he was going to hug Dean but suddenly thought better of it. “I was going to wish you good luck, but we both saw how well that worked with Garth. I’ll see you later, Dean.”

Dean watched as he left, then turned to gather his things and put his pants back on. 

  
  


_ Castiel _

Castiel left the hospital wing, relieved that Dean was indeed okay, but he couldn’t shake the feeling of…  _ guilt  _ that Garth Fitzgerald was dead. He knew it wasn’t his fault, he couldn’t have done anything to save Garth unless he himself volunteered. He knew for sure that if Rue Marsh was ever called, he’d volunteer in a heartbeat. He thought he’d volunteer for Hael too… but thankfully he never said those words out loud.

He reached the six barrels and tapped the barrel that was two from the bottom, middle of the second row to the rhythm of ‘Helga Hufflepuff’, and then crawling through when the barrel moved. 

“Castiel!” Rue grinned, running over to him. “Let’s go have breakfast and then we can go to the Quidditch match, I think we all need to be there at eleven.”

He nodded to her with a smile. “Alright, lead the way.”

Rue left the common room with Castiel behind her as they made there way to the Great Hall for breakfast. They found a table that consisted of mainly Hufflepuffs, making their way over to it.

“Hey guys,” Nymphadora smiled, sliding down so they could sit. “Are you both going to the Quidditch match?”  
Castiel nodded. “Yes, we are. It’s a big game, whoever wins this one gets to move onto the finals.”

“Who are you betting on?” Charlie Bradbury asked, raising her eyebrows. “I bet ten chocolate frogs that Ravenclaw is going to win.”  
“No way,” Justin shook his head. “Gryffindor is going to _crush_ Ravenclaw. With a seeker like Finnick Odair, the Gryffs are destined to win.”

“I agree with Justin,” Castiel agreed. “Dean Winchester’s feeling better as well, him and Sirius Black are the dream-team when it comes to Beaters.”  
“You mean Sirius Black and The-Boy-Who-Cried, right?” Johanna Mason smirked, sitting down. “I hear he was sobbing and there wasn’t a single thing hurting him.”  
Castiel tensed. “That’s enough, Johanna. Leave him alone.”  
“Ah, gotta protect your boyfriend, don’t you, Novak?” She grinned, tilting her head.   
“He isn’t my boyfriend, I would just rather _not_ hear you be an assbutt about it, okay? We don’t know what the Hell went on in his mind, alright? So why don’t you knock it off.”

“Oooh, feisty are we?” She chuckled. “Lighten up, Novak.”

“Rue, are you done eating?” Castiel asked quickly. Rue nodded so Castiel stood, turning quickly and leaving the Great Hall.

Eventually Castiel and Rue made it outside to the Quidditch pitch. They had each grabbed a butterbeer on their way over, and were now sitting on the bleachers so they could watch the game.

Rue found her friend; a Ravenclaw by the name of Jesse and left Castiel, sauntering down a few rows on the bleachers so she could sit with him. Castiel kept his eyes on the pitch, watching as the Gryffindors and the Ravenclaws mounted their brooms, pushing off the ground and elevating themselves into the sky. 

His eyes landed on Dean who was also looking back at him. Dean winked-  _ he fucking winked _ \- at Castiel, and his stomach did a little flip. He smiled small but quickly averted his eyes to Gryffindors Keeper and Captain, Oliver Wood.

The match begun, and it started off intense. It went back and forth between Gryffindor scoring and Ravenclaw following. Ginny Weasley would throw the Quaffle through the centre ring, skimming right past the Ravenclaws Keeper; Mick Davies. Not a few minutes later, Cho Chang would manage to get the Quaffle through the right or left ring, immediately leveling the scores.

The match went back and forth like this for the majority of it, before Castiel’s eyes landed on Finnick Odair who seemed to have his sights set on something. He shifted his eyes to Dean quickly who dodged a Bludger attack before looking back to Finnick.  _ Come on, Odair. The Snitch is right there, just grab it. _

Finnick was zooming around the pitch now, avoiding a Bludger hit that was knocked away thanks to Dean. He quickly reached out and grabbed the Golden Snitch that hovered in one spot for just a little too long, allowing for Finnick to get a hold of it.

“One hundred and fifty points to Gryffindor! Gryffindors win!” the announcer cheered, as Castiel jumped up and cheered as well. He watched the Gryffindors celebrate in the air before they all landed and begun to celebrate on the ground as well.

Castiel clapped and grinned, giving Dean a thumbs up when they locked eyes. It was almost as if Dean was looking for him. 

Dean playfully punched Sirius in the arm, and then laughed as he dodged a return hit and started jogging towards Cass. His face was flushed and his hair was sticking up at all angles from the mix of sweat and wind. He stopped when he got to them. “That Quidditch Cup is  _ ours,  _ so don’t go gettin’ any ideas, Novak. I don’t know how Hufflepuff managed to make it this far, but you guys are goin’ down.” 

Castiel chuckled, taking in Dean’s appearance. “Whatever you say, Winchester.”

Dean grinned, then nodded to Rue. “Get in any epic snowball fights lately?”

She shook her head, grinning as she stood next to Jesse. “I can’t say I have, unfortunately.”

“Don’t worry, kiddo. Next year, I’ll make sure it’s even bigger.” He winked at her. “And that we  _ win.”  _

Rue smiled at him as Castiel rolled his eyes, repeating himself. “Whatever you say, Winchester.”

“Yeah, great talk, Novak. Forgot what a thrilling conversationalist you were.” Dean’s eyes flicked back to Rue, but he jerked his head towards Cass. “Keep your eyes on this one. He’s trouble.” Dean grinned and didn’t wait for a response as he turned and jogged to catch up with the rest of his team, heading into the changing room. 

“He’s _so_ into you, Castiel,” Rue smirked, nudging him.  
Castiel cleared his throat and tensed, shaking his head. “No, he’s not. I’m going to head to the common room, I’ll see you there later?”  
She frowned but nodded. “Yeah, Castiel. I’ll see you later.”

Castiel nodded to Jesse and Rue as he descended the bleachers stairs, pulling his wand out and twirling it around as he made his way back to the castle.


	9. In The Evening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The quest for the Quidditch cup and a Very Destiel Detention TM.

_ Dean _

Dean entered the Charms classroom the following Monday still riding the high from Gryffindor’s latest Quidditch win. He’d expected Ravenclaw to put up more of a fight, they’d been difficult to beat in the past. But Finnick was in rare form, even for him, and it took him less than an hour to catch the Snitch. It had been the most therapeutic hour of Dean’s life, if he was honest with himself. Being a Beater allowed him to be in control. Control of himself, and control of little, magical cannonballs that were the physical embodiment of the frenzied chaos he’d been feeling inside of himself for… well, for years. It felt good to direct that at someone else, to literally beat it away from himself and send it careening towards another target. Especially because all that target had to do was shift their broom slightly to avoid it. It was a win/win, and each time his bat had connected with a bludger, he’d relaxed further. 

He sat down in his usual seat and pulled out his wand. Professor Trinket had a gleam in her eye that he’d rarely seen before, which excited him. After the Dark Arts lesson from Hell, he had been weary at best about going to his other lessons. He knew what the others called him.  _ The Boy Who Cried.  _ How none of them realized that Crane had cast an Unforgivable Curse on him was beyond him, but he did his best to shrug off the scoffs and whispered insults.  _ Better me than them.  _

He was surprised and slightly disappointed when Castiel didn’t sit next to him. He knew he had no reason to think that he would; sure, they’d gotten back some of their previous banter and comfort level with each other, but Dean had still been an ass and never even bothered to explain it. He scowled at his desk.  _ What the fuck was I supposed to say? Sorry, can’t come out of the closet right now cuz my dad will whip my ass?  _ His scowl deepened to the point that he was sure something near him would die, but nothing did. 

Professor Trinket broke him out of his thoughts. Her voice was unusually soft. “I heard about recent…  _ events,  _ and decided to teach you something that would normally be taught in a different class. As your Professor, it is my duty to prepare you for the real world, especially when the real world is let into our castle by Death Eaters.” She spoke simply, but Dean’s eyebrows shot up. To the best of his knowledge, none of the other professors had ever explicitly stated that they knew what Seneca Crane was. He was fully paying attention now. 

“Since the class you would have been learning this charm in under normal circumstances doesn’t exist for your age group, I have taken it upon myself to teach you.” She pulled out her wand. “Dementors are horrible creatures, and there is no real way to fight them. You can, however, defend yourself with at least  _ some  _ level of dignity. I’m going to teach you the Patronus Charm, and while I suspect less than half of you will be able to produce a fully-formed Patronus, it will be worth it to me if even one of you can pull it off.” She looked around the classroom and her eyes landed on Castiel. Dean’s followed, and he watched Castiel’s cheeks flush at the attention. Dean frowned to himself, because Castiel wasn’t even close to being the best in this class, so why did  _ he  _ get singled out?  _ The guy can’t even say a levitation charm right.  _ He squirmed in his seat and looked back at Professor Trinket. 

“The incantation is simple enough, but the thought behind it isn’t. You’ll never be able to produce even a shroud of silver mist unless you’re fully, completely focused on your happiest memories” Dean flinched.  _ Fuck. There goes any chance I’ve got at ever defending myself from those creepy, horrible things.  _ She closed her eyes, and took a deep breath as, Dean assumed, she thought of things that made her happy. “ _ Expecto Patronum!”  _ His eyes shot to the end of her wand as a silvery-white peacock burst forth. His eyes were wide, and he was sure he’d never seen anything like it. Peacocks were ridiculous creatures, all arrogance and uselessness, but this was… beautiful. He could feel the warmth and hope radiating out from it, and several students around him gasped. He understood immediately how something like this might counteract the effects of a dementor. 

The peacock patronus disappeared, and it was like a vacuum had sucked the air out of the room for a moment. It hadn’t registered to him just how big of an effect this thing had until it was gone. He licked his lips, more than eager to try to produce one of his own. 

Professor Trinked called on Remus. “Mr. Lupin, would you care to be the first to try your hand at it?” Dean watched as Remus shrugged, standing up and walking down to her. He held his wand out and copied her movements: eyes closed and a long, deep breath. He said the incantation exactly as she had, but nothing happened. “Try again, Mr. Lupin. It has to be a truly happy memory. Let it fill you up, and picture it coming out of your wand as a guardian.” 

Remus nodded, and tried again. “ _ Expecto… Patronum!”  _ His voice echoed around the room and a shroud of silver mist erupted from his wand. Professor Trinket clapped politely. “That won’t do you much good if you’re faced with an actual dementor, but it’s a start.”

Remus sat down again, the look on his face unreadable. He didn’t look proud or disappointed or  _ anything.  _ Dean shuddered. 

“Let’s try with one of the girls, shall we? We are the happier gender, after all.” Professor Trinket winked, and picked on a Hufflepuff seventh year. 

The girl stood, her hand covering smothering a giggle. Dean rolled his eyes, but couldn’t argue Trinket’s point - the girls certainly looked happier than the boys right now. She stepped forward, clearing her throat and donning a straight face. She didn’t seem to have to search very long for a happy memory, because she quickly shouted the incantation and immediately produced that same, silvery cloud that Remus had. Professor Trinket made an unimpressed sound, but clapped all the same. “Who would like to go next?” The girl appeared slightly out of breath as she walked back to her seat and sat down, exchanging an excited smile with the girl sitting next to her. 

Castiel stood. He didn’t raise his hand, he didn’t ask to be chosen. He just  _ stood.  _ Dean shrunk back in his seat and tried not to imagine what Castiel was going to use as his happiest memory. He took quite some time, but nodded to Professor Trinket once. “I’m ready.”

 

_ Castiel _

 

She looked at him expectantly. “Then do it, Mr. Novak. Go ahead, the floor is yours.”

He breathed out rather shakily and closed his eyes. He held his wand out and tried to go back in time to his happiest memory. He remembered the way Dean’s lips felt on his, the way his hand felt on Dean’s chest. He was so relaxed, so content at that time. He breathed out again and did the movement with his wand while saying “ _ Expecto… Patronum! _ ” 

He opened his eyes quickly, but frowned, noticing the silvery cloud. “It didn’t work.”

Professor Trinket frowned at him. “So do better. Whatever you were thinking about… it wasn’t happy enough. It wasn’t  _ nearly  _ happy enough.”

He frowned because that really was a happy memory for him. He closed his eyes again and this time thought about the time he received his letter from Hogwarts and how excited he was to finally be able to leave home. He completed the movements again and said quieter this time “ _ Expecto Patronum!” _

This time when he opened his eyes, he saw the silvery mist shoot out in the form of a…  _ what is that?  _ It had wings, whatever it was. Castiel tried to hold it there so he could study it, but it quickly sputtered out as his energy drained. He dropped his wand arm to his side, breathing quickly. 

“Excellent! Excellent, Mr. Novak, I had a feeling you’d be the one to do it first.” Professor Trinket was clapping in earnest now, her hands rapidly smacking together and a smile plastered on her face. 

Castiel looked at her, but for some reason couldn’t bring himself to smile. He shifted his eyes to Dean, scanning his face for any indication on what just happened and what it was that appeared out of his wand.

Dean, however, was looking down at his desk with his eyebrows pinched so closely together that they nearly became one. 

Castiel thanked Professor Trinket and made his way back to his seat. He grabbed his books and quickly moved to the empty seat beside Dean, sitting down beside him. He didn’t say anything, he just set his books down and tucked his wand into his robes.

Professor Trinket then called several more students to the front, none of whom produced anything close to what Castiel did. A few managed that strange mist, but nothing with any real shape. Dean kept his eyes on the desk until Professor Trinket called his name. 

He looked up, appearing startled. “Oh, uh… no thanks.” 

Castiel frowned, nudging him gently as he whispered, “why not?”

Dean just shook his head quickly, sinking further into his seat before Professor Trinket insisted he come try the spell. 

Castiel looked to Professor Trinket, sensing Dean’s discomfort. “All due respect, Professor Trinket, but Dean doesn’t want to. Perhaps you can pick someone else.”

Dean looked relieved and grateful, briefly flicking his eyes to Castiel’s. Professor Trinket clicked her tongue. “As he was the one that was most affected by our visitor, I think it is most important that he learns this spell. Mr. Winchester, please step forward.”

Castiel tensed, looking to Dean as he spoke quietly so only Dean could hear him. “You don’t have to, Dean. She can’t get you in trouble for not wanting to do something that makes you uncomfortable.”

“She can and she will,” was Dean’s only response before he pushed himself to his feet and walked forward. His legs bowed out at an odd angle, something Castiel wouldn’t have even noticed if it wasn’t for how obviously Dean was struggling to take steps forward. 

Dean didn’t address the class or Professor Trinket as he held his wand out in front of him. He was silent for a long time, longer than anyone else had been this far. The silence seemed to stretch on, and the students that had been watching him with interest started to look away. It was beginning to look like Dean wasn’t going to attempt the spell at all, and then he did. 

“ _ Expecto Patronum.”  _ It was barely above a whisper, and Castiel might not have even heard him say it if it wasn’t for the absolute quiet of the rest of the class. Nothing happened. Not a cloud, not a wisp, not even a hiccough out of Dean’s wand. 

Castiel closed his eyes for a moment and then started to collect his and Dean’s things as Professor Trinket spoke, confusion heavy on her voice. “Are you sure you focused solely on your memory, Mr. Winchester?”

Dean seemed to deflate, and he mumbled, “dunno.”

Castiel cleared his throat as he stood up, his arms full of all his books and Deans. “Professor Trinket, Dean and I have somewhere we need to be, don’t we, Dean?”

Dean turned quickly, his eyes cloudy but almost hopeful. He cleared his throat. “Yeah, yeah we do.” He started walking towards Cass, his steps no longer forced. 

Castiel quickly headed for the door, hearing Professor Trinket say something about detention, but not really caring. He managed to hold the door open for Dean, before letting it close after Dean was out. 

Dean kept his eyes to the ground, walking away from the door. “Thanks.” 

“Are you hungry?” he handed Dean his books. “It’s nearly dinner time.”

Dean stopped long enough to grab his books from Castiel, and muttered, “not even a little bit. Gonna just go to bed.” 

He frowned but understood, nodding once. “Yeah, alright, Dean. I’m going to the Hufflepuff common room, you can uh- you can join me if you’d like.”

Dean hesitated and started to shake his head, but then stopped. “How many Hufflepuffs call me The Boy Who Cried?” 

He tensed but shook his head. “Johanna Mason, mainly. She’s an assbutt, though, so don’t worry about her.”

Dean’s temper visibly rose. “How’s that fuckin’ fair? I get an Unforgivable fucking torture Curse used on me with a god damned dementor in the room, and somehow I’m  _ The Boy Who Cried.  _ Fuck it, I don’t care. I’m going to bed, I’ll see you in Potions.” He turned on his heel and walked quickly away. 

Castiel stood still, watching Dean go.  _ Unforgivable Torture Curse? Dementor? _ He quickly turned, following the direction Dean walked in.

 

_ Dean _

 

Dean heard Castiel’s footsteps behind him.  _ C’mon man, just leave me alone. Walk away. I don’t want to explain any of this, let alone to you.  _ He walked quicker, his mood absolutely in the gutter. He hadn’t been able to think of a single happy memory. He thought he’d found one, but it apparently wasn’t good enough. He’d thought about a time when he was just a kid; before he knew his dad was a hunter. Before his dad found out he’d kissed a boy. Before he’d found out he was a wizard, and the very thing his dad spent his life tracking down and murdering. He’d just been a kid, with a family that loved him and he loved back. No expectations, no pressure to be something or someone that he wasn’t. Or rather, to ignore the something and someone that he  _ was.  _ Nothing else he could think of even came close to that singular memory, unless he was counting what happened with Castiel on Christmas. But even that memory was tainted and tinged with guilt and regret.  _ I can’t even be happy right, what the fuck is wrong with me?  _

Castiel eventually caught up to Dean, calling out to him. “Dean, Dean wait!”

_ Jesus, this guy doesn’t quit.  _ He turned, stopping in his tracks. “What? You decide you wanna say somethin’ too? About how the great, confident Dean Winchester cried like a fucking bitch? About how I don’t have a single fucking happy memory, and how everyone fucking knows it now?” He was angry, angry at so many things. Castiel wasn’t necessarily one of them, but he was there. He was there and stupid enough not to walk away, so Dean didn’t apologize. 

Castiel dropped all of his books and simply stepped forward, wrapping his arms around Dean. “I’m sorry.”

Dean’s shock temporarily cut through his anger. He didn’t hug him back, but also didn’t pull away. “For what?”

“I understand now, Dean. About everything, about being upset with you for so long after Christmas, for just- for not understanding, but I do now.”

_ How could you possibly understand any of it? You don’t know, and I’m not about to tell you.  _ He pulled back, straightening his robes. “Yeah, sure. Great.”

Castiel blinked, watching him. He looked a little embarrassed as he dropped his arms to his sides. “I’m sorry- I- I didn’t-.”

“I’m fine. It’s fine. Everything’s peachy. Don’t worry about it, you might hurt yourself.” He flinched, just barely.  _ You can at least quit bein’ a dick to him, he didn’t do anything wrong. _

Castiel tensed, his face flushing slightly. “Okay, Dean. I’ll just- I’ll go. I hope you feel better.” He turned around and picked up his books that he dropped, walking away without looking back.

Panic rose in Dean, and he reached out as Castiel walked away, but the words died in his throat. His face set and he turned, continuing on his original path.  _ Let him go. He doesn’t need your bullshit, nobody does. The world doesn’t revolve around you, how many times does Dad have to say that before you get it? So what if being around him is the only fucking thing that makes you feel normal anymore, this isn’t his problem. You’re not his problem. And he’s not yours.  _

\----------------------------

The air was blissfully warm when Dean walked down to the Quidditch Pitch for his final match of the year. They were playing Hufflepuff, and this would be the first time he’d really seen Castiel since their argument after Charms. 

He avoided his teammates as he walked into the changing room and pulled his robes out of his locker. He ran his thumb over the yellow number 4 that stuck out in bright contrast against the blood red background and thought back to the first time he put these robes on.  _ Maybe that’s what I should have picked for my happiest memory. I was somebody then, somebody worth cheering for. No one was glaring at me, or yelling at me, or tellin’ me I wasn’t good enough.  _ He changed quickly, then grabbed the Cleansweep Seven from the broomshed. 

Sirius caught up with him, the very picture of confidence and swagger. “You ready to  _ beat  _ the Hufflepuffs?” 

Dean rolled his eyes. “That joke gets worse every time you say it, Sirius. _ Seriously _ .” 

That earned a laugh from his friend. “I could say the same to you, Winchester. Let’s do this.” 

“Yeah, right after Wood gives his speech. We might be eighty by the time we get out there to actually play.” 

As if on cue, Oliver Wood spoke up. “This is my last match as your Captain, since I will be leaving Hogwarts next year. Playing with all of you has been the highlight of my time here, and I’m sure your new Captain will feel the same. I’m not going to waste time with a pep talk… you all have played well enough this year that I don’t think you need it.” 

Sirius cut in. “Yeah, and you’re afraid if you do, you’ll cry harder than Winchester did during Dark Arts.” Dean looked at him, shocked and a little hurt, but then Sirius laughed. It wasn’t mocking or hurtful, it was the sort of laugh only his best friend could pull off. It wasn’t enough to make Dean laugh in return, but it took a little bit of the edge off. He playfully punched his shoulder. “Shut up.” 

Oliver continued, pretending he couldn’t hear Sirius. “Your Captain for next year will be Jo Harvelle.” Dean’s stomach twisted, but he smiled and clapped with the others. It was unreasonable for him to think he’d be made Captain, and honestly, he had forgotten Oliver was going to name one tonight so he hadn’t had a chance to dwell on it. Jo was the obvious choice anyway. “Now, let’s go win the Quidditch Cup.”

Dean didn’t have to be told twice. He joined the rest of the team as they walked out, shook hands with the other team, and took off into the air. He faintly heard the whistle that signaled the start of the game, and then Jo whizzed past him with the Quaffle in her hand. 

He adjusted his grip on his bat and took a moment to breathe.  _ This is it, last match of the year. Maybe the last match of your life, if you’re Chosen next year. Make it count.  _ He let the roar of the crowd fill him up as he circled the pitch, cheering along with everyone else when Jo passed the Quaffle to Lisa, who threw it past Castiel and through the hoop. He flew closer to Cass and winked at him. “Gonna have to be quicker than that, angel.” He startled himself with the nickname that could only have come from Cass’s patronus. Dean wasn’t even completely sure what it was, but his first reaction to it had been that it looked like a guardian angel. 

Dean abruptly snapped out of his thought as a bludger sped towards Ginny Weasley, who was holding the Quaffle and zig zagging her way towards the goal post. He leaned forward on his broom, urging it faster. “Ginny, duck!” The second she did, he swung - connecting bat to bludger and sending it speeding towards Johanna Mason.  _ Hope it knocks your head off, you evil bitch.  _ It didn’t, however, because she was every bit as good as Dean was. He heard the crack as she swung her bat and hit the bludger, but this time it veered off course. He lost sight of it for a moment, and took that opportunity to curse loudly as little Rue Marsh managed to score. 

Dean searched the pitch for Finnick, who was flying well above everyone else, his eyes scanning the area below him.  _ Good, we’ve still got time, he hasn’t seen it yet.  _

He sped around the Hufflepuff goals, rolling neatly on his broom in front of Castiel and taking off towards the other end. He was trailing Lisa Braeden, who had the Quaffle and was about to run smack into all three Hufflepuff Chasers. He was about to yell a warning to her, but realized at the last second that she was feinting. He shut his mouth, flying over her just as Jo flew under and grabbed the Quaffle out of the air. He hit the bludger that came towards them and sent it flying back up the other end of the pitch, not paying attention to where it went because Jo was about to score again. She did, but that was pretty much the end of their good luck.

Goal after goal, bludger after bludger, Dean watched helplessly as the Hufflepuff chasers took that game dangerously out of reach. The sun was setting behind the stands and Finnick appeared no closer to finding the Snitch. He glanced at the scoreboard.  _ 170 to 40, this is awful. Why are we playing so badly?  _ He wanted to take over for Lisa, or maybe Ginny, and play Chaser just to help them catch up a little. There were several problems with that, the most glaring of which being that it wasn’t allowed. So Dean just doubled his efforts in knocking bludgers towards the Hufflepuff chasers and tried to knock them off course. 

He and Sirius worked as a flawless team, each one sensing where the other was going and which targets they were aiming for. They managed to stop several potential goals with well-aimed  _ thwacks  _ of their bats, which allowed Ginny, Jo and Lisa the opportunity to finally get some more goals past Castiel.  _ When the hell did he get so good at this?  _

They’d pulled within 70 points by the time Dean saw Finnick speed towards the ground. Charlie Bradbury, the Hufflepuff Seeker, was hot on his trail. Dean took off after them, hoping the bludgers would play nice and he’d be able to distract Charlie if not knock her off her broom entirely.  _ C’mon, Finn, catch it now, if you catch it now we win.  _

It started raining, and heavily. It didn’t concern Dean a whole lot; he knew that Finnick had an uncanny ability to see in all sorts of weather conditions which was one of the things that made him such an insanely good Seeker. It did, however, make it harder to keep a good grip on his bat. 

He was gaining on the two Seekers when they abruptly turned, flying up and to the right of where they’d previously been. Dean did his best to follow, but his Cleansweep was decidedly slower than the brooms the Seekers had. He heard the chaotic buzzing of a nearby bludger just as Finnick and Charlie both reached out their hands. He swung with every ounce of energy he still had in him, and sent the bludger towards Charlie. 

Under normal circumstances, Dean Winchester had the best aim of anyone at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and certainly of anyone that played Quidditch there. He rarely missed his mark, especially when it was a mark he was near desperate to hit. But these weren’t normal circumstances. The stakes were too high after a year of too many lows, and it didn’t help that bludgers had minds of their own. It hit just slightly to Charlie’s right, which meant that it hit the arm that Finnick Odair had stretched out, just inches from the Snitch. Inches from victory. Dean watched in silent horror as Finnick’s left arm broke and he pulled it back from the Snitch to cradle it against his body. It was a testament to Finnick’s superior flying abilities that he didn’t fall off his broom in the torrential downpour. Finnick reached out wildly with his good arm, but he was a split second too late. Charlie Bradbury’s fingers closed around the Golden Snitch, and it was over. 

 

\-------------------------------

Dean landed on the ground with a wet, muddy squelch, and Sirius landed next to him moments later. “Don’t say it.” Dean growled. “Just don’t… fucking say it.” 

Sirius shook his head, grabbing Dean’s arm. He went to say something back to him, but it was lost in the deafening roar that surrounded them. The Hufflepuff players were slowly drifting towards the ground in a victory huddle, Castiel and Charlie right in the center. 

Dean was happy for Castiel. Or at least, he wanted to be. But the pit in his stomach wasn’t allowing much room for anything but nausea at the moment, and he realized with a jolt that Oliver Wood might  _ actually  _ kill him. He took off at a run, shoving the broomstick back in the shed. He quickly shrugged off his robe and balled it up, hastily throwing it in alongside the brooms. He once again didn’t want to deal with anyone, and he had detention later thanks to him running out on Charms. He hurried back to the castle, changing into a spare pair of regular robes and headed towards Professor Trinket’s office when it was time.

 

_ Castiel _

Castiel was in shock. Had Hufflepuff  _ seriously _ just won the Quidditch finals? He lowered his broom to the ground and tossed it to the side, all the other Hufflepuff players landing and celebrating as well. Even Raphael had a smile on his face. 

Castiel was quickly pulled from his celebrations when he looked at the time and groaned. He slipped away from the rest of his team and quickly ran back to his dormitory to change into his regular school robes before he took off in a sprint towards Professor Trinket’s office.

Honestly, Castiel didn’t mind having to go to detention. He hated that it was right after they won the finals and he wasn’t able to celebrate with the rest of his team, but he  _ did _ get to spend more time with Dean, just the two of them. He quickly made it into Professor Trinket’s office and noticed that Dean was already in there. 

“Hey,” Castiel smiled slightly, moving to sit in the chair beside him.

Dean offered a grunt in response. 

Castiel frowned but didn’t acknowledge the grunt. “So, uh… yeah, alright, not talking. Cool.” He opened his notebook just as Professor Trinket walked in.  
“Look alive, Mr. Winchester. Your detention is just beginning.” She quickly turned and wrote down the sentences ‘I must not disobey’ and ‘I must not leave class early’. She turned back to them. “I want you to alternate writing out these sentences for the duration of your detention. Any questions?”

Castiel shook his head.

“No, Professor.” Dean’s voice was nearly too polite as he spoke, and then he flipped open his own notebook and grabbed his quill. 

Professor Trinket nodded in approval. “Very well. I’ll return in an hour.”

She left and Castiel turned to Dean. “Are you okay?”

“Yep.” Dean didn’t look up as he started writing the first line. 

Castiel watched him. “I don’t believe you. Are you upset with me?”

Dean simply did that non-committal face shrug he does so well. “Nope, got no reason to be, do I?” 

He narrowed his eyes at him. “And you say  _ I’m _ the terrible conversationalist.” He picked up his quill and started to write, staying quiet now.  _ So much for that. _

Dean grunted again, his quill scratching on the parchment. “Yeah.”

Castiel didn’t bother acknowledging him and instead of thinking about writing his lines, his mind was playing over every scenario that occured between him and Dean, trying to pinpoint a reason he could be upset. He sighed and looked back down at his parchment and realized that instead of writing the word ‘class’, he had scribbled down ‘Dean’ instead, his sentence now reading, ‘I must not leave Dean.’ He quickly tore that piece of parchment out and crumpled it up, clearing his throat and starting again.

“Congratulations, by the way. You made some good saves out there.” Dean didn’t look up, but at least he said  _ something.  _

“Huh? Oh uh, yeah, thanks.” He shifted his eyes to Dean briefly, but kept writing. “You played well too, from what I could see.”

Dean scoffed, his eyes darkening and the scratches on the parchment getting rougher. “Yeah, I played friggen  _ awesome.”  _

He frowned. “You did, really. So you missed one shot, you protected everyone else the entire game.”

“And hit the wrong damn person when it mattered. I think I broke Finn’s arm.” Dean tossed the quill down, leaning back in his seat and rubbing his face. 

He set his quill down as well, looking over at him. “I mean, you probably did. Bludgers hurt like a son of an assbutt.”

“Who the hell taught you that word? I swear, every conversation we have you’re callin’ somebody an assbutt.” Dean doesn’t outright smile, but it’s there. 

Castiel smiled, almost proud. “I made it up. Isn’t it great? You can use it every context.”

“Sounds like it’s just the one context to me.” Dean picked up his quill and started writing again. 

He picked his quill up and starting writing again too. “You know, I wasn’t really upset that we got detention?”

“Why, because you finally broke the rules for the first time in your life?” It wasn’t accusatory, but there was still an edge in Dean’s voice. He didn’t look up from his paper.

Castiel felt… hurt? He’s been nothing but nice to Dean, yet Dean still seems to be angry with him. “Right, then.” He gathered his stuff and moved to a different seat away from Dean. “So we don’t get distracted.” He tried to hide the hurt in his voice and wondered if he did it well enough.

 

_ Dean _

For the second time in as many days, Dean managed to push Castiel away right at the moment he needed him most.  _ Fuckin’ awesome, Winchester, good work.  _ He glanced up at Castiel, wondering what kind of assbutt he had to be in order to make Cass sound like that over and over again. He huffed and continued writing, barely paying attention to the words he was scribbling. 

Dean had this awful tendency to dig himself deeper no matter how badly he wanted to pull himself up, so he muttered under his breath, “yeah, keep runnin’ away.” 

It was easy to tell that Castiel had definitely heard by how aggressively he put his quill down, but he didn’t move or say anything.

Dean was on a roll now, all of the frustrations of the last few days bubbling over. It came out like word vomit, but he couldn’t make it stop. “I thought Hufflepuffs were supposed to be these crazy loyal dudes? Isn’t that your whole shtick? But all I’ve seen you do is get weirded out and run away, then pretend like everything is fine two days later.”

Castiel kicked his chair out and stood up angrily. “What’s your problem, Dean? What did I ever do to make you  _ hate _ me so much? If I recall, you’re the one who’s pushed me away every time I’ve tried to fix our problems. You  _ literally _ pushed me away on Christmas and ever since then you’ve been cold with me. What did I do?”

“No, you don’t get to do this.” He pushed his chair back and stood as well, his voice raising. “You don’t get to sit there and pretend like I haven’t tried to let this go. It’s not my damn fault that you’re  _ everywhere  _ I am, with your stupid grin and your stupider eyes that I can’t get outta my damn head. I  _ tried  _ to leave you alone, and you wouldn’t friggen go. So, I pushed. I was tryin’ to do you a god damned favour.” 

Castiel narrowed his eyes. “Have you ever considered that I don’t want you to leave me alone? That I don’t  _ want _ to go? Because while you can’t stop thinking about my eyes, all I can feel when I lay in bed at night is your hands. On my back, on my chest, just - just  _ on me. _ I don’t know what the Hell your problem is, Dean. So what we can’t be together? I still had hope we could  _ at least _ be friends, but you’ve made it abundantly clear you don’t want that either.”

And that’s it, that’s the thing that tips Dean over. He doesn’t know how to begin explaining about his dad, or all of the fucked up shit that lead them there, so he doesn’t. He doesn’t try to defend himself, and he doesn’t try to go to Cass. He sits back down, picking up his quill. “I’m sorry, I’ll leave you alone. I know that I fucked this all up, and I can’t fix it, cuz I can’t change. I can tell you it’s not your fault, but I don’t think that’s gonna make much of a difference at this point.” 

 

_ Castiel _

He heard Dean’s words, feeling his stomach sink. He hadn’t meant to explode on Dean like that, he just-  _ I need answers. Something. Anything. _ He stayed standing for a while, before he moved back down to where he was sitting before, taking the quill out of Dean’s hands. “Dean, I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have exploded like that. I just- it’s not your fault and I don’t want you to leave me alone. I want- I want us to be able to be friends for more than twenty minutes at a time. I don’t understand what’s going on. I thought I did, but now I’ve never been more unsure of anything. I even feel more confident with the whole ‘Wingardium Leviosa’ thing than I do with this.”

“It’s about damn time you say it right.” Dean looked up at him. “You wanna understand? Fine.” Dean stood up and pulled his robe off. “Something you might not have noticed on Christmas cuz you were never behind me.” He loosened his tie and pulled it off, then his undershirt followed. He turned around, revealing a criss-crossed pattern of what looked like old, thick scars. “Makin’ a little more sense yet?”

Castiel eyed the scars and almost reached out to touch one, but pulled his hand back quickly. He closed his eyes, breathing out as he whispered, “your dad?”

Dean nodded, his fingers fumbling slightly as he pulled his shirt back on. He left his tie off but put his robes back on as well. “He’s not abusive, he just gets mad sometimes.” 

Castiel stood and carefully helped Dean straighten his robes. “He gets mad and he  _ whips _ you, Dean. That sounds a little more than ‘just mad’ to me.” He paused and then flicked his eyes to Dean. “This is what you were talking about on Christmas, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. I know you said you were new to all of that, but I pretty much was too, and there was a reason for that.” Dean’s eyes held a tiny spark of defiance, but he wasn’t looking at Castiel.

“On Christmas you said ‘last time’. Did you- have you- before me?” He asked quietly, his hand moving towards Dean’s, seemingly on its own.

Dean let it happen. “No- well, yeah, but no. It was just once, a few summers ago. Some friends and I were playin’ that game, spin-the-bottle? Anyway, it was barely even a kiss, but the kid’s parents told my dad, and…” Dean fell silent for a moment, chewing his lip. “I didn’t even look at another dude after that, until you, last year.” 

He watched Dean’s mouth, before looking back at his eyes. “Fuck, Dean. I- I’m sorry. I didn’t know I just thought- I don’t know what I thought.” His hand finds Dean’s and he squeezes it gently. 

Dean made a noise close to a whimper. “It’s not your fault, you couldn’t have known. I shouldn’t have let any of that happen that night, but the firewhiskey… and you were… and I couldn’t help it. Fuck, I tried. I tried not to pull you into this, but…” Dean’s eyes flicked down to their hands, and he was looking at them like he was confused about what they were doing laced together like that. Like he’d never even seen hands before. 

Castiel noticed this and let go of Dean’s hand, looking to him. “Christmas was… I really enjoyed Christmas, Dean. I mean it hurt afterwards but I  _ enjoyed _ Christmas.” He watched his hand again, before he breathed out and whispered, “fuck it.” He grabbed Dean’s hand again, probably more aggressively than intended, keeping his eyes on them as he spoke. “Do you know why I’ve never kissed- or never even looked at a girl before?”

Dean was obviously thrown off by this. “Cuz you’re into dudes?” 

He tensed and closed his eyes because that was the first time he’s ever heard anyone else say it and if after Christmas hadn’t confirmed it, it was definitely confirmed just now. He hadn’t realized he was crying until he went to speak but his voice came out cracked. “Yes.”

Dean looked genuinely concerned. “Cass, there’s nothin’ wrong with that, okay? I don’t give a shit what my dad says, there’s nothin’ wrong with you just because you’re not into girls. You know that, right?”

He closed his eyes and didn’t really answer Dean’s question, changing the topic instead. “You’re the only one I’ve downright told, Hael sort of assumed and that’s why we did the whole ‘fake sex’ thing, and I think Rue found out on her own. So, uh-” he cleared his throat and used his other hand to wipe his eyes before he looked up. “Now you - you know.”

“The sex hair thing, yeah, how could I forget. That image has been burned into my eyelids ever since.” Dean shifted.

He swallowed hard, unintentionally stepping closer to Dean. “And- are you- are you into- is that-” He fell silent, not sure how to ask this question.

“You just started three sentences and didn’t finish a damn one of them. If you’re askin’ if I’m into chicks, the short answer is ‘yeah.’ The long answer is ‘but probably not as much.’” Dean’s eyes met Castiel’s and he sucked in a breath. 

Castiel nodded slightly as he understood. “If- if you don’t give a shit about what your dad says, why can’t you be happy too? He’s not here, he’s- he’s not at Hogwarts.”

“I don’t give a shit what he says --” Dean paused. “Alright, that’s a lie. I do care, I care a lot actually. He’s my dad, Cass, you gotta understand that. He can be a real prick sometimes, but he’s still my  _ dad,  _ and even if I did manage to stop givin’ a shit about what he thinks of me, that wouldn’t stop him from….” he fell silent again, jerking his head back like he was trying to silently reference the scars.

“Then- I’ll stop,” he closed his eyes as he spoke. “I won’t flirt with you and I’ll keep my eyes closed around you as much as I can I just-” he tensed, his eyes still closed “I need you, Dean. Even if you can’t be with me, we can still try and be friends, right?”

Dean nodded, though it was a movement Castiel couldn’t see with closed eyes. “I get it, angel. I do. But there’s a problem with your plan.” 

Castiel opened his eyes, his stomach flipping at the new nickname and he realized that was going to make this a lot harder. “What? What’s wrong with it?”

“If you close your eyes, you’re gonna be runnin’ into stuff and I’m not that great at  _ “episkey.”  _ Dean’s eyes were on Castiel’s lips as he spoke, but he brought them back up to his eyes.

Castiel smiled a little bit and looked down at the floor. “I- yeah, I suppose that’s true.”

“There’s another problem, too, if I’m bein’ honest. Wait, wait… d’you want me to be honest or do you want me to say the shit that’s gonna make this easier?” 

He looked up at Dean and spoke quietly. “I want you to be honest.”

“Then, in the interest of tellin’ the truth… I should tell you that closing your eyes won’t do either of us any good, unless you also figure out a way to become invisible entirely.” Dean’s hand that wasn’t holding Cass’s came up to his face, and Dean ran his thumb over Castiel’s jaw. “Cuz it ain’t just your eyes that I’ve been thinkin’ about.” 

Castiel closed his eyes again but only momentarily this time, his heart racing because this whole scenario was so familiar. Dean’s hand on Castiel’s face, Castiel’s heart beating this fast. It was just like Christmas, and he knew it would end the exact same way. He wasn’t sure his heart could take that right now, but he wanted it, too. So badly, he wanted it too. “Then what are we supposed to do, Dean? Tell me what we’re supposed to do because I’m telling you, on Christmas, it felt right. I felt… I felt safe and comfortable and everything felt right.”

Dean seemed to struggle with himself for a minute, and his words sounded a little less convincing this time around. “It can’t happen, Cass. It just can’t, we can’t.  _ I  _ can’t. This ain’t fair to you. I’d never be able to take you home to meet my family, or see you over the summer, or even  _ talk  _ to you, cuz we don’t exactly have access to Owl Post out where I live. You deserve somebody that’s gonna be able to do all of those things, and not have to worry about what’s gonna happen if they do.” 

Castiel bit his lip and looked down, speaking quietly. “Is that what you want, Dean?”

“Maybe not, but it’s the best I’ve got right now with the options in front of me. It’s the option that  _ keeps  _ you feelin’ safe. There’s things… there’s things I didn’t mention, about my dad. About what he does for a living. It might not just be me in danger if we - if I…” Dean’s eyes dropped to Castiel’s lips again. 

Castiel watched him, blinking slowly. “If you what, Dean?”

Dean whispered, probably more to himself than to Cass, “just one more time.” Dean leaned in and kissed him. 

 

_ Dean _

_ Damnit, damnit, damnit, fuck -  _ Dean’s lips were still on Castiel’s, and he couldn’t seem to convince himself to pull away. He had barely thought about it before he did it, and  _ didn’t you just spend the better part of the last friggen hour tellin’ him you can’t do this and that you were going to stop?  _ But he didn’t stop, he couldn’t. 

Castiel kissed him back, seemingly not bothered by anything right now, his hands were resting on Dean’s sides, his thumbs stroking over the clothed skin there, which made Dean shiver. 

Dean wrapped his hand around Castiel’s yellow and black tie, and pulled him even closer. He bit his lip and pulled it back, releasing it a moment before kissing him again. He backed them up until Castiel hit the desk, and then Dean helped him sit up on it, settling between his legs. 

Castiel’s hands were on Dean’s face now and he deepened the kiss, but he eventually pulled back, resting his forehead on Dean’s. He spoke quietly, his eyes still closed. “Dean we- I shouldn’t…”

_ There it is, he basically just admitted he doesn’t want this. That’s your get-out-of-jail-free card. Take it, back up. Walk away, sit down until Professor Trinket comes back. Do it. Why are you still standing there?  _ “Yeah,” was all he managed to say. 

Castiel paused for a beat, but then pressed his lips to Dean’s again, whispering “fuck it” before their lips touched.

_ Fuck  _ **_me,_ ** _ not it,  _ **_me._ ** _ No, no, Jesus, Dean, sit down. Go sit down.  _ He didn’t sit. He didn’t move, other than to kiss him back. He was just about at the end of his self-control when Professor Trinket opened the door, stopping dead when she saw them. “Oh - oh my.” 

Dean’s mind blanked, and he stumbled back a step. He was vaguely aware of his tie laying on the desk, and  _ damnit, it wasn’t even  _ **_from_ ** _ that.  _ “We uhh… the lines, they’re… we’re done. We get it, the message was loud and clear, Professor.” 

Castiel didn’t say anything or even turn to look at Professor Trinket. He kept his back to her and his fists balled at his sides as he shivered.

“That will be… all, gentlemen. I see this detention wasn’t a punishment at all, was it?” Professor Trinket  _ tsk’d  _ but kept speaking. “That’s alright, I didn’t want to punish you anyway. Run along, and quickly, before I change my mind.” 

Dean grabbed his books quickly, shoving Castiel’s in his own bag and slinging it over his shoulder. He reached out for Cass’s hand and pulled him out of the room. “Shit, we’re lucky that wasn’t somebody else.” 

Castiel nodded but went with Dean, still holding onto his hand. “Yeah, lucky.” He didn’t sound convinced, but he it was clear that he tried.

“Look, angel, I know that  _ yet again,  _ that wasn’t fair to you. I do, I know that. I need you to know that I know that.” Dean kept walking, not letting go of Castiel’s hand. He was aware, very aware, that they were walking down the middle of a corridor and that they could be spotted by anyone at any time, and the thought made him nervous. It made him want to pull away, but he didn’t.  _ If you can’t even hold his hand here, when it feels this damn good, how would you ever make it work out there? _

Castiel smiled a little bit and squeezed Dean’s hand. “Angel, huh?”

“Your uhh… your patronus. Thought it kinda looked like a guardian angel.” 

“I like it,” he nodded. “I wish I had a nickname for you.”

Dean shrugged. “It’s okay, I don’t really care what you call me.”

Castiel looked as if he wanted to say something, but changed his mind. “So uh… where are we going?”

Dean just shrugged again. “Does it matter?”

He shook his head but stayed quiet, following wherever Dean was going.

As it turned out, Dean was going to an empty classroom, because he wasn’t quite done with what they had started in Professor Trinket’s office. 

 

_ Castiel  _

 

Castiel knew what this so called ‘gathering’ was for the  _ moment _ Professor Hanscum came into the common room to retrieve all the Hufflepuffs. They all lined up silently and a wave of sadness seemed to wash over the room. Rue even took Castiel’s hand and squeezed it as they walked to the Great Hall.

Once inside, Castiel looked around and realized that everyone was sitting strictly with their House, not a single person seemed to be out of place. He swallowed hard and sat down beside Rue and Nymphadora, and across from Justin and Newt.

“Do you think this is for-” Rue whispered, only to be shushed by Newt.  
“Rue, you have to be quiet, okay?” Castiel nudged her gently, matching her volume. “It’s exactly what you think it’s for.”

The Great Hall fell silent, so quiet you’d be able to hear a pin drop. Castiel watched as Professor Shurley took the stage, clearing his throat into the microphone. “Hello, everyone. Thank you for showing up so promptly. Uh- as you all know, we gathered today because I- along with the other Heads of Houses- have an announcement.” He fell silent for a long moment, before he spoke again. “As of five days ago, this yea r’s Mudblood Games h ave come to an end.” 

The room echoed with gasps and ‘who won?’, but Professor Crane raised his hand to silence the room again. “The Chosen fought valiantly and-,” Professor Shurley stopped when a voice was heard from the Gryffindor table.  
“Bullshit they did!” Castiel closed his eyes and swallowed hard when he recognized the voice to be Finnick Odair. _He seriously needs to learn to keep his mouth shut._ Castiel opened his eyes and found that Finnick had fallen silent, wondering if that was his own choice, or if someone had used the _Silencio_ Charm on him. Either way, Castiel was grateful.

“As I was saying,” Professor Shurley began again, “our tributes fought valiantly, but as we all are aware, only one shall make it out alive. I am…  _ here _ to announce that the winner of this year’ s Mudblood Games  is Meg Masters, our 6th year Gryffindor!”

Not a single person cheered. Not a single person made a sound, honestly. The room was just full of eyes blinking at Professor Shurley. He cleared his throat. “Uh, that is all. Enjoy your end of the Games feast,” he paused, lowering his voice, “and may the odds be ever in your favour.”

Castiel watched as Professor Crane ushered Professor Shurley off the stage. Castiel swallowed hard as the room slowly began to come to life with chatter. 

“So… Garth’s dead, right?” Rue asked quietly, her eyes glued to the table.  
“Yeah, Rue, Garth’s dead,” Newt nodded. “He was your friend, right?”

“He was everyone’s friend,” Charlie whispered as the golden plates appeared on the table, accompanied by butterbeer.

That night, Castiel was sure not a  _ single _ Hufflepuff touched their meal and he wondered if it was like that with the other Houses as they made their way back to the common room.

 

_ Dean _

 

Once again, Dean found himself pulling Finnick Odair back into his seat. He whispered angrily, “Dude, are you fucking trying to get us killed?!” 

Finnick shook his head and fell silent, but his fists were clenched under the table. 

Dean shifted in his seat, looking around at all of the other faces in the room. Most seemed to echo exactly how he felt - even if he couldn’t even explain how he felt at the moment. His eyes fell on Castiel, like he was some sort of magnet for Dean’s gaze. At this point, he wasn’t even trying to hide it, he knew that Castiel was hurting over Garth’s death. He’d never really mentioned it to Castiel, but him and Garth had sort of been friends too. Not close, by any means, but they frequently shared compartments together on the Hogwarts Express, and he’d had Herbology with him his third year. Garth was a good kid, werewolf or not. He didn’t deserve this anymore than any of them did, but it was becoming increasingly clear to Dean that no one else gave a shit about that. He barely paid attention to the rest of the announcement, and he allowed himself to be led out with all the others. 


	10. Hold the Line

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The conclusion to Part One, and the end of the Hogwarts School year.

_ Dean _

 

They were nearing their end of year exams, which meant O.W.L.’s for Dean. He was nowhere near prepared, and he was drowning under all of the homework he’d been assigned. He was now the only person in Charms that was unable to get  _ anything  _ out of the Patronus Charm. He’d tried almost every memory he could think of, but nothing was working. He decided it was past time that he asked for help, because Professor Trinket made it abundantly clear that they’d be required to do the charm as part of the practical portion of their O.W.L. 

He got to breakfast early, looking for Castiel. He found him sitting with Newt and Rue, and went over to him. “Uh, hey, Novak? You got a minute?” 

Castiel raised his eyebrows but nodded as he stood up. “I’ll be back.” He stepped away from the table with Dean, speaking quietly. “Need your daily fix of my eyes?”

“More than just your eyes, angel, but that’s not what I’m here about. I need you to fix me.” 

“Uh, pardon?” Castiel squinted. “ _ Fix _ you? Fix you how? Fix what? Did you break a bone?”

“You know I can’t make a decent patronus - hell, I can’t make  _ any  _ patronus, and Trinket said it’s part of our exam. I already know I’m going to fail almost all of them, I can’t afford to fail this one too- Charms is supposed to be my best subject. I need you to uhh…” He cleared his throat, the words struggling to come out. “I need your damn help, alright?” 

A small smile formed on Castiel’s face as he nodded. “Yes, alright. I can help you. Now?”

“Yeah, now. I already put off asking your for too long, my exam is in like 3 days.” He started walking out of the Great Hall, talking over his shoulder. “There’s an empty room on the seventh floor, I already asked Professor Mills if we could use it and she said yeah.” 

Castiel watched him go and grinned. “I’ll be there in five!”

Dean shook his head slightly as he walked, muttering under his breath. He made his way up to the seventh floor, glad when the moving staircases that led up there decided to stay in their places. He double-checked that the room was empty and then went in, pulling out his wand. He decided to take a practice run before Castiel showed up. He closed his eyes, his face screwing up in concentration as he picked yet another memory he could at least file in the  _ realm  _ of happy, and muttered “ _ Expecto… patronum.”  _ Nothing. Not a whisper. He frowned at his cyprus wand, then tapped it on his palm as if he was checking to see if it was still working. “ _ Lumos.”  _ The tip of his wand lit up.  _ “Nox.”  _ The light went out. “ _ Wingardium Leviosa. _ ” He swished and flicked at a chair near him, and it rose into the air. He set it back down with a thud, and his frown deepened. “Why won’t you just do the damn spell?” 

Castiel appeared in the classroom. “Yelling at your wand isn’t going to do anything, Winchester.”

Dean turned, knowing his cheeks were red. “I was -- it’s just  _ stupid,  _ this is the only spell it won’t do.” 

Castiel closed the door after him and locked it, before turning back to Dean. “Are you sure you’re saying it right?”

Dean glared at him. “Expecto patronum. It’s not rocket science, man.” 

Castiel frowned slightly but nodded. “It isn’t, you’re right.” He cleared his throat and looked down. “Dean I uh- I hate to ask this but do you - do you even  _ have _ a happy memory?”

Dean stopped being offended by that question a long time ago, because he’d asked himself it enough times. He shook his head. “I thought I did, I thought I had a whole bunch of them. But nothin’ I’ve tried has done any good at all.” 

Castiel walked towards him slowly. “Are you happy when… when you’re kissing me?”

“It’s funny that you think that wasn’t one of the first ones I tried.” 

“I’m flattered, Dean,” he joked with a grin, but quickly turned serious again. “What about a memory with Sam? You like being his brother, right? Were you happy when he came home from the hospital or whatever?”

“No, when he came home from the hospital I wanted to strangle him. Which is awful, I know, but I was only like a friggen year old at the time and he was  _ loud.”  _ Dean made a face. “I tried a couple, but they’re all… I don’t know… tainted? Like they were happy, but the endings were shit.” 

He sighed, bringing his wand out of his robes. “I see. And the hand movements, you’re sure you’re doing those right too?”

Dean nods, demonstrating again. “I don’t think that’s the problem, I honestly think it’s because I don’t have a good enough memory. I guess that’s not really somethin’ you can fix though, so I… maybe you should just go back down to breakfast, this was a dumb idea.” 

Castiel shook his head and stepped towards Dean again. “It’s not a dumb idea, Dean. Have you tried… have you tried the detention memory?”

“What, you mean the one where I spilled my guts and we got busted by a Professor? Yeah, tried that one too.”

“No, no, that’s not what I mean. I think you’re focusing on the wrong parts of the memories. Don’t think about what happened before or after, just think about what was  _ happening _ when I was sitting on the desk.” He stepped back. “Try now, and focus only on that part.”

Except now, Dean is terribly distracted by that memory, and also by how easy it would be to make it a reality again.  _ Empty classroom, he’s like three feet from a desk… I could just… walk forward and --  _ he cleared his throat. “I’m gonna turn around.” He turned, his back to Castiel now. He let that memory fill him, but he was tense, he knew he wasn’t focusing enough. He tried harder, and then -  _ no, shit, too much - too much focus.  _ He made a disgruntled noise and held his wand out, hoping he’d found a sweet spot in the memory. “ _ Expecto patronum!”  _ The faintest wisp of silver smoke snaked its way out of Dean’s wand. “Cass!” 

Castiel grinned from behind Dean but didn’t make a sound, he just stepped closer to Dean.

“Okay, okay, I think I know what I was doing wrong. Hold on.” Dean shifted on his feet, spreading his legs slightly as if having better footing would help him. He focused every thought in his head on what it felt like when Cass took his hand in that detention room, after so long of being robbed of affection. Just that, nothing else. It was so simple, so… pure and devoid of ulterior motives that Dean just  _ knew  _ it would work. “ _ Expecto Patronum!”  _ His words were much louder this time, and a silver phoenix erupted from the tip of his wand. 

Dean just stared at it, his blood pumping quickly through his veins. “Is that --” 

Castiel was now probably way to close to behind Dean, but he whispered. “A phoenix.”

It disappeared as quickly as it had appeared. Dean frowned. “Do it with me, Cass. A bird and an angel, seems fitting they should be together, right? Wings and shit, or whatever. Just do it.”

Castiel nodded and smiled to Dean. “Alright, Dean.” He pointed his wand and said “ _ Expecto Patronum _ !”

“ _ Expecto Patronum!”  _ Dean echoed Castiel’s words, and in an almost blinding burst of light, Cass’s strange patronus and Dean’s phoenix appeared in front of them. They were both even more corporeal looking than Dean had remembered, and this time they didn’t fade. They circled together; it almost looked like they were dancing. 

“Whoa.”

Castiel watched as well, his eyes wide. “Woah is right.”

“Does it feel… stronger, to you?” Dean held his wand arm steady, most of his brain still focused on that singular feeling.

“Yes,” Castiel nodded, keeping his wand still. “Definitely. They’re more… _ vibrant, _ too, don’t you think?”

“Yeah, looks like they wouldn’t have a problem kickin’ the shit out of a dementor, or hell, five dementors.” He glanced over at Castiel’s wand and did a double-take. “Wait… what kind of wood is that?”

Castiel furrowed his eyebrows, probably at the strange question. “Uh… Willow. Why?”

Dean’s heart rate sped up.  _ No, it can’t be.  _ “Unicorn hair core?”

“Yes, Dean. Unicorn hair core.” He tilted his head.

Dean was sure his heart was going to beat right out of his chest, and his phoenix only glowed brighter in response. “Did you buy it at Ollivander’s the year you started school, or did you have it growing up?”

He blinked. “Ollivander’s.”

“Okay, but was it the year you started here or was it before?” Dean knew he probably 

sounded insane, grilling him about his wand like they were studying for a test, but he didn’t care. Pretty much every witch and wizard got their wands from Ollivander’s, that wasn’t the important part. The important part was  _ when.  _

“Dean I don’t understand why this is so important, but if you must know, it was the year I started.”

Dean blinked.  _ Willow. Unicorn hair. Sold the year before I bought mine. This is it,  _ **_that’s_ ** _ it, that’s the twin to my wand.  _ “Cass… our wands were made from the same fuckin’ unicorn.” 

Castiel squinted at him and then looked at their wands. “How the hell do you know that?”

“Ollivander, he got all excited when this wand chose me, he said he’d sold it’s twin the year before - he mentioned that one was willow and this one was cyprus, but that was it, he didn’t tell me who. I never thought it would matter again, cuz I never thought I’d find it but -- Cass,  _ that’s  _ why the patronuses aren’t going away. That’s why they’re so much brighter than before. Cuz our wands… they’re twins. We probably just noticed now because this was the first time we’ve ever tried to do the same spell at the exact same time.” Dean looked dazed, and definitely a little awed.

Castiel lowered his wand and looked to Dean. “Twins? That means- that means they’re supposed to be together, right? They’re stronger together?”

Dean nods. “Stronger together.” He lowers his own wand, and both patronuses disappeared. “Not that they’re not strong apart, but they’re… stronger together. Better.” 

 

_ Castiel _

 

Castiel had half the mind to laugh.  _ Better together. Stronger together. Is he referring to the wands, or to us? _

“That’s uh, that’s great, Dean,” Castiel nodded. “I’m glad they uh- I’m glad they found each other or whatever.”

Dean’s face fell, and he cleared his throat. “Right. It’s not a big deal, right? They’re just wands, it’s not like we just won the lottery or something.” 

Castiel frowned. “It’s- it’s just ironic, isn’t it?”

Dean shrugged, and it was clear the moment was gone. “Yeah, sure. Anyway, thanks for your help - I honestly couldn’t have done it without you, and now maybe I’ll actually pass at least one of my O.W.L.’s.” 

“Dean, wait,” Castiel closed his eyes and tucked his wand away. “It- It’s a big deal. What are the odds we’d- our  _ wands _ would find each other?” He lowered his voice and it came out in barely a whisper. “What are the odds  _ we’d  _ find each other?”

“I don’t know, does it look like I know a damn thing about wand lore?” Dean shook his head. “Anyway, you were right the first time, I just overreacted because I wasn’t expecting it, that’s all. We should go see if there’s any breakfast left.”

Castiel opened his eyes and watched Dean.  _ Say something. Convince him to stay, you clearly upset him. This was important to him and you ruined it.  _ “Are you hungry?”

Dean nodded. “Yeah, I didn’t eat before I came to find you.” 

_ Are you hungry, what the hell kind of question was that? _ “Oh, uh, okay. Have a good… breakfast.”

Dean looked confused for a second, but ultimately nodded. He was chewing on his lip again. “Yeah, have fun with… whatever it is you’re gonna be doing, I guess.” He faltered, then walked out of the room. 

Castiel closed his eyes and tilted his head back because that couldn’t have gone worse. He waited a moment before leaving the classroom as well, headed to the common room.

 

_ Dean _

 

Dean failed every single one of his exams, he was  _ sure  _ of it. Even Charms. Sure, he could produce a patronus now, but it wasn’t nearly as strong without Castiel’s next to it, and he knew he screwed up at least three of the incantations on the written portion. He mentally kicked himself, because that had been the one he was most sure he’d pass.  _ Maybe if you’d spent more time reading in the library instead of  _ **_staring_ ** _ in the library, you wouldn’t be having this problem.  _

He thought he might have done alright in Transfiguration, the teacup he’d created only had a tiny crack in it and he wasn’t sure Professor McGonagall even noticed. Potions, however, was a trainwreck. He’d seen his potion start to turn blue, but all he could think about were Novak’s stupid eyes, and the potion never made it to that colour. He’d definitely added to many shrivelfigs and by the time he was done, his Draught of the Living Death potion had  _ looked  _ like living death. Smelled like it, too. He might as well have given himself the ‘T’ instead of waiting for Professor Crowley to do it for him. 

Dark Arts, he was ashamed to admit, probably went the smoothest. They’d used dummies instead of real people for the practical portion, and he’d managed to jinx it in all of the ways requested by Crane. All he had to do was imagine the dummy  _ was  _ Seneca, and the jinxes came easily to him. The written part, though, he’d failed. He’d failed because he didn’t answer a single question with a proper answer. He’d answered with sarcasm and condescension, because it was ridiculous to him that the class even existed, let alone merited an O.W.L. 

The rest of his classes - History of Magic, Herbology, and Care of Magical Creatures all went in decreasing order of atrocious. His mind had been a blurry, fuzzy mess in History of Magic, and he couldn’t remember a single date or fact about the Goblin Wars. He’d guessed on practically every question, although he was pretty sure he made some decent guesses at the names of the goblins. They were all similar. Haggar the Horrible, Tormund the Terrible… names like that. 

He was pacing the Gryffindor common room now, waiting for it to be time to go to breakfast. Their exam results wouldn’t be arriving until they got home for the summer, and he was already dreading the look on his dad’s face when yet another owl showed up on their doorstep. 

Sirius interrupted him. “I’m going to either starve to death or fall through the floor after you wear it clean through if we stay here. Let’s just go eat, unless you’d rather eat in Hogsmeade?” 

Dean shook his head. “Nah, I’m not going today. You and James can go, I’m pretty sure Jo and Lisa are already on their way down there.”

James hopped down the last couple of steps from the dorms. “Where can I go?”

Sirius sniggered. “To he--” Dean cut him off. “To Hogsmeade, with Sirius.” 

James shrugged. “Come on then, it would be a shame if any more of Dean’s brain cells wore off because he was stuck here talking to  _ you.”  _ James pushed Sirius towards the portrait hole. 

Dean had to laugh, two insults in one was hard to do. “You guys have fun, alright? Don’t do anything stupid, just cuz it’s the end of the year doesn’t mean they won’t kick you out.” 

Sirius threw up a very rude finger and his friends disappeared. Dean went back up to the dormitory and changed into regular clothes, then headed down to breakfast. 

He sat by himself, still fidgeting nervously due to his exam anxiety as the plates in front of him filled with food. He started to eat, his eyes occasionally wandering in search of Cass. 

Castiel was sitting a few chairs down from Dean, but slid closer when he noticed him. “Hey.”

“Hey. You goin’ to Hogsmeade today?”

Castiel shrugged, sipping his orange juice. “I haven’t really decided yet. Are you?”

Dean shook his head. “Nah, I want to enjoy the castle while I still can. I was actually thinking about heading out to the Black Lake… getting eaten by the giant squid sounds better than going home for the summer.” 

Castiel chuckled quietly. “Yeah, I suppose I’ll stay back too. There’s not much point in going to Hogsmeade so close to the end of the year.”

Dean agreed. “Yeah, you’re right.” He looked around them and noticed there weren’t very many people left in the Great Hall at all, so he scooted a little closer to Cass. “You wanna join me in my little suicide mission?” 

“I’d like nothing more, Dean,” Castiel stated with a grin, looking over at him. “When are we leaving?”

“I would say ‘when I run out of bacon,’ but these house elves aren’t messin’ around… we could be at this table for the rest of our lives. How about now?”

Castiel nodded with a grin and slid out of the chair. “Lead the way, then.”

Dean followed Cass, grabbing a couple of slices of bacon for the road. He fell into step beside Cass like it was the most natural thing he’d ever done. He turned left out of the Great Hall and pushed his way through the giant double doors, sucking in a breath of fresh summer air. “I’m really gonna miss this place this year.”

Castiel nodded and squinted against the sun, using his arm to block it as they walked. “Me too, but we’ll be back. Can never stay away for too long.”

He nudged Cass’ shoulder. “Can I tell you something?” 

Castiel looked over at him and nodded, continuing to walk. “Of course you can.”

Dean was silent for a moment as he looked around the grounds. He took a deep breath, his eyes flitting over the Quidditch Pitch in the distance and the Black Lake to their left. “I think I might end up missin’ you more than the castle.”

  
  


**END OF PART ONE**

 

**Author's Note:**

> This will be three parts, and we are already working on Part Two. We wrote Part One in 7 days, so hopefully you won't have to wait long to see what happens to our ragtag group of heroes next.
> 
> *update* It's now going to be five parts, and part two is posted! Part Three is done and will be posted soon. 4/14/19


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